Lugosi and Steele Antiquities
by underhillunderwater
Summary: Instead of escaping after Dean shoots the devil in Carthage, he is sent back to Hell. A month later he is back topside, but why isn't he booking it to Sioux Falls and his family? Why is he driving as fast as he can in the opposite direction? DESTIEL, IN PROGRESS
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

The second time Dean goes to hell, there is no Alistair waiting to take him under his wing. There is no one to help him because there are no more seals to break. There's just a whole lot of pissed off demons—demons Dean's had a hand in sending here, or worse, demons he helped make back when he was torturing. So, regardless of origin, each and every demon in hell wants a piece of everyone's favorite Winchester.

_"It's time to go back now, Dean."_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note or something:_

_Hey, I'm Underhill! This is my first fic! Please be gentle, and I would be absolutely psyched to hear from you (already one comment, THANK YOU!)! So! Yeah! Fic!_

Chapter 1:

_"You find me, Dean. You know where I'll be. I'll be waiting, and we can take care of each other." She touches his face. "Are you ready?"_

_"Yeah." They have no idea if this will work, but anything is better than this place. Anything._ _"I'll see you on the other side, Bela."_

_She smiles. "Damn straight you will, Winchester."_

_They step through into the dark._

GASP.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: _

_Hi, this is the third chapter of my first fic! Yay! Thank you lone reviewer! You are awesome : ) Hopefully the chapters will get a little longer soon. But look! Dean is up! Also yay? ...it's possible I haven't slept in a while..._

Chapter 3:

Dean wakes up in Carthage, Missouri, the last resting place of his human remains. Bobby and Sam had left his body there. Cas had left his body there.

The sun burns against his closed eyes and the air stings his lungs as he realizes: they hadn't even buried him.

His family hadn't even _buried_ him.

He pushes his body up, every bone aching, and finally opens his eyes—damn, _bright—_and tells himself, _It doesn't really matter. They told you, you already knew._

_"…don't even care that you're gone. Don't you think they would have found a way to get you out by now, Dean?" Dean screams as the demon stretches and tears at another strip of skin on his chest. "It's been six years, Dean. But nothing, not even a peep from the outside. They've moved on." _

But it still hurts. He'd been hoping, goddamn _praying_ that they'd been lying. "Demons lie," he'd told his brother once, but sometimes they tell the truth if they think it'll hurt more.

He coughs, clearing his throat out. He tries to speak, to test out the words. "Sam left me there. Bobby left me there." The voice is one he can barely recognize, choked and strangled. He pushes up to his feet.

"Cas left me here."

_Goddamnit. I gotta find a gas station. _He sighs. _I need to find a car if I'm going to get to New York. _It's going to be a long walk back to town.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Okay, so I should mention that if something is in italics it's because it's either Dean thinking or a flashback. Maybe I should have said that earlier... Oh well! Also, on occasion I will use quotes from episodes of Supernatural, which belongs to Eric Kripke and CW and all that good jazz, so the only thing that belongs to me is the original plot. That's a disclaimer, right? Right? And yeah, everything is canon until midway season 5. ...I'm really bad at this, oh man._

Chapter 4:

The first six years back in hell Dean spent back on the rack, and though it seemed impossible, it was even worse than his first time around. It turns out that Alistair had been easy on him. Things could have been worse, god, so much worse, and he found out first hand from eager volunteers how much worse it could be.

_"Dean, oh Dean, physical pain is nothing compared to what we have in store for you. You've made a lot of people angry down here, and a lot of those people plan to say hello."_

When he broke free, half crazy and desperate, it was Bela who found him, put him back together again. Bela who was, inexplicably, still human.

She taught him how to keep hidden, how to stay protected, how to fight and withstand in hell. He thought that a century and more in hell would have destroyed her but he should have known better. If anyone had the guts and the smarts to survive the Pit it was Bela.

That is why he's on his way to New York, radio blasting from a hotwired, junker of a truck, and not to Sioux Falls and his family. Because they aren't his family anymore. The only family he has made him promise to find her, and they'd agreed on her loft because it was a safe place.

They agreed to get in contact via e-mail before heading for NY. Both their cells were no doubt disconnected and neither knew exactly where they'd been laid to rest (the spell had specified that that was where they would come up). In Dean's case it could have been Sioux Falls; it could have been next to his mother, or his father. He hadn't figured on Carthage, though.

To: Bela Lugosi

From: Dean Van Halen

I'm up. See you in a few days.

-D

To: Dean Van Halen

From Bela Lugosi

Good. Place is secure. Hurry up, "Van Halen."

-B

He grins. Bela made it out of the pit.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's/Underhill's note: So! Fifth chapter! Thank you people who reviewed and subscribed; I honestly didn't think anyone would read this, so it's a pleasant surprise. I hope I don't disappoint. Also, disclaimer blah blah I don't own Supernatural's glory blah blah rated m for language and other stuff blah blah blah blah._

_"He used you, Dean. Fucked you and left you cold on the ground." The knife twists, deep in his chest._

_He would never leave me voluntarily, Dean tries to scream. Cas would never do that. Cas lo—… Cas cares._

_"I know what you're thinking, Dean. But angels don't have feelings. They don't have souls. Even demons once had souls. But him? You're an ant. A mud monkey. To him, you're no better than us. He doesn't care, Dean." The knife twists again and Dean's lungs flood with blood..._

Dean jolts wake from the dream. His first night on the road and already he is having nightmares. He hadn't bothered with a hotel room, doesn't have the money for it and doesn't trust people again yet, so he'd pulled over on the side of the road to grab a few hours. He is glad for it now, despite it being cold as fuck, as he slams the door open and falls out onto his hands and knees. He pukes what little food he's managed to eat onto the ground.

Great, he thinks. He gets back into the truck and starts driving again. Sleep is overrated.

Earlier that day:

First thing Dean does after waking up is find the road and follow it until he finds a truck stop, complete with gas station, diner, and a large parking lot full of lots of cars and big rigs. He breaks into the nicest looking car and steals four twenties out of the glove compartment, making sure no one sees him. Despite his hands shaking, he manages to get in and out without leaving a trace.

"Pie, please."

He's in the diner, seated in a back booth, and the waitress is standing over him with a pen poised over her notepad. She raises an eyebrow. "What kind, honey? We got lemon meringue, apple, b boysenberry, banana cream-"

"All of them," he says, hand fisted on the table around the cash.

"…Excuse me?"

"I want a slice of each," he says. "And a cup of coffee. Hell, make it two cups of coffee, and a coke." He hasn't had pie or caffeine in ten years-TEN YEARS-so he'd take as much of each as he goddamn wants. When she gives him the up and down though, taking in his dirty clothes and derelict appearance (hey, you trying lying dead in a field for six weeks and see how you look), Dean opens his fist and shows her the money. "I'm good for it. Just, rough night."

"I'll say." But she smiles a little, so he counts it as a win. "Alright, seven slices of pie, two coffees, and a coke, coming right up." She flips the notepad closed. When she comes back with his order she pats him on the shoulder and says, "Feel better, hon," before sliding an order of eggs and bacon in front of him along with the pie. "On the house." She winks. "Don't tell anyone."

When Dean eats his first bite of apple pie, the sound he makes is downright pornographic. "Oh God," he moans. Out of everything he's endured, missing pie is probably the worst. Which is saying something.

He leaves a big tip before leaving. He cleans up a bit in the bathroom, stocks up on road food and steals a car, an old junker of a truck that the owner will probably be happy to collect the insurance money for.

It's good to hit the road again. The farther east he gets-closer to Bela and farther from Sioux Falls-the lighter he feels.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's/Underhill's Note: So, chapter six! If it's not clear by now, Bela's one of my favorite characters. I was really disappointed that we didn't get to see her character developed more, but alas, she was not popular with the majority of viewers. I tried to make this chapter a little longer, and hopefully they'll get a little longer after this, and I really hope this chapter doesn't come across as too confusing in the timeline. And I hope it doesn't suck... that too. Review please, it would be much appreciated! : )_

Chapter 6:

Dean takes the steps two at a time after sneaking by the doorman. He knows that, looking like he does, he wasn't going to get in no matter what Bela told them, so he decided to use stealth instead. At her door though, he pauses. Will she still want to see him? Will their connection hold above ground? Will-

The door bangs open and five feet and change flings itself into his arms. Her arms lock around Dean's back in a vice and she buries her face in his chest.

"Dean Winchester," he hears muffled against his shirt, "what took you so long?"

Dean chuckles and rests his cheek on her head. "Sorry, Bels. Came as fast as I could. Miss me?" When he feels the front of his t-shirt grow moist he simply hugs her harder.

1 week later:

"I'm worried about him, Bobby. He's been at this nonstop for six weeks straight."

"Ya think I ain't worried? You're not the only who cares for the boy."

Sam runs a shaky hand through his hair and sighs. "I know. God, I know. I just don't know what to do. He's going to get himself killed if he keeps up like this. He's not being careful. If the angels find him…"

CRASH.

Sam frowns. Bobby growls, "Now what in Hell's name was that?" They get up and follow the noise outside. They are shocked at what they find.

It's Cas. Cas looking half dead and sprawled across the hood of one of Bobby's old junkers, and…

"Is he drunk?" Sam asks, bemused.

"Sure smells that way," Bobby nods.

"He's gone. No getting him back. Won't want me back," Cas is moaning. Sam and Bobby each slip an arm under one of his shoulders, hauling him to his feet.

"Who's gone?" Sam already knows, but has to hear it.

"Dean. S'gone. Not coming back to me. Won't want me."

"Cas, you're not making sense."

When they deposit him on the couch inside, Cas curls in on himself like a child. Realizing they aren't going to get any more information out of him tonight, Sam pulls a blanket over Cas's shaking form.

"Won't want me anymore," the angel mumbles. He drifts off.

8 hours before Cas's crash landing...

_Cas's stomach roils as he kisses Meg, but he does it anyway; he needs to get out of here, needs to get to Dean. _

_When he steps across her he feels no guilt at all. _

_He's at the field in an instant. He takes the scene in, Lucifer standing over the hole, Sam frozen and looking-beyond furious. Dean is…_

_His neck is snapped. His eyes are vacant. A trickle of blood is rolling out of Dean's mouth and all of a sudden Cas can't move for the life of him._

_"CAS!"_

_The ground is shaking now, a horrible noise emitting from the dug earth in front of Lucifer. "Hello, Death."_

_"Cas! We need to _go!"_ Sam is next to him and shaking his shoulder. He feels Sam tug on his arm and before he knows it they're at the Impala. That is where it hits him. He shakes Sam off him._

_"We need to go back," Castiel says. "We have to get Dean!"_

_Sam grimaces. "We can't, Cas. We need to get out of here before Death rises."_

_"I don't CARE!" Cas roars. "I need to get Dean!" He _had _to. He couldn't leave Dean behind._

_"We'll come back later, Cas, I promise!" Sam is edging closer as Cas starts to lose it. _

_"I'll get him myself if I have to." Cas starts to march back to the field when everything goes black. Sam is behind him holding a shotgun, butt end pointed where Cas's head had been. Sam grabs Cas by the shoulders and shoves him into the car. He drives as fast as he can for Sioux Falls._

It wouldn't have worked if Cas hadn't been so close to falling already. In his full state the hit would not have even fazed him. Being so close to falling is also why he is so exhausted after not sleeping for a month and a half. He's been demon hunting.

The demon Cas is currently questioning is lifted off his feet and hard against the alley . Cas has been questioning demons since Carthage, tearing through the monster population like crazy in an attempt to find a way to Dean. But this demon is different. This demon is laughing.

"You haven't heard, angel? Dean-boy's gone."

"What?" Cas almost loses his grip, but manages to keep his steely-eyed composure.

"He's gone. Beyond our reach now, us lower class demons. Beyond your reach as well."

"What does that mean?" Cas asks. The demon just laughs until Cas sends another shock through him.

"He's in the big leagues now, angel. First thing he did when he got back was start carving again. You should have heard the souls scream…"

"You're lying."

"…Never seen a man so easily readjust to the pit."

"Stop lying."

"Wait, did I say man?"

"Shut up!"

"I meant demon."

A flash of blue light floods the room as Cas exorcises the demon instantaneously with a hand to his head.

It can't be, he thinks. Dean can't be.

But this is Dean's second tour of Hell…

Cas collapses. He is too late. He has failed. Dean is a demon and he is lost to Castiel forever.

When Cas does get up, he is disappears with a rush of feathers and the flap of his trench coat. He spends the next few hours getting rip-roaring drunk. Then he goes to Bobby's to deliver the news to Dean's brother.

When he dreams it's of Dean, and the man is smiling, sad but smiling, and he's holding Cas's hand. _"Demons lie," _he tells him and Cas nods. He doesn't remember any of this when he wakes up though.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's/Underhill's Note: CHAPTER 7! YEAH! Again, not sure if this is any good, I rewrote bits of it a lot so it's all a bit mashed up in my head. This chapter is Dean and Bela centric, and finally explains the title kind of. Next chapter will have more Cas, Sam, and Bobby, because I do love those guys, even if I harbor some resentment on Dean's behalf against Sam (my mother says it's because I'm an older sibling-kind of). So, uh, regular disclaimer and all, and I hope this chapter doesn't suck as much as I fear it does, and ... I'll stop talking now. Review?_

Chapter 7:

_He's coughing up blood now. First drowning in it, now unable to keep it down. Hell is funny like that. Funny being an extreme stretch of the definition._

_"Six years. It's been six years. No one's coming for you, Dean. No one cares."_

_A part of Dean's brain is screaming that it's only been a few months topside, not that long, but that part is drowned out by the sheer horror of what he is experiencing. Reason has long since fled the building._

_"No one cares. No one's coming. Say it."_

_Instantly, Dean's lungs clear, and he can hear his own sobs again._

_"Say it."_

_He's already been broken, Dean knows that. But he'd had one last shred of hope, and it is here that he loses it. He clears his throat and croaks:_

_"No one cares about me. No one's coming for me." And that's when he becomes convinced finally that it is true._

* * *

_"Take my hand, Dean."_

* * *

They spend a week tangled up in each other before they get down to business. It's been a long time since either of them have had no responsibilities beyond having the gas and water hooked back up. All they do is order pizza and watch old horror DVDs.

Upon first glance, anyone would have thought them lovers, but Bela and Dean have never been that way. Before Hell they had hated each other too much, and in Hell there'd been no time for that kind of thing. Besides, Dean was still torn up over someone else, and, "You're not my type, Winchester. You're too noble and self-sacrificing."

They start by warding the building. They redo the Devil's Traps. They mix salt in paint and paint the window sills. They demon-proof the place as best they can before they move onto angel-proofing, which is infinitely more difficult.

First they write out Enochian symbols large and precise over the outside of the building in holy oil-unseen to the human eye but still a perfect ward against angelic warriors. Every spell they learned in Hell is used on their walls and their door and their windows; they make it a fortress. Then, they ward themselves.

"Just get it over with, Bela," Dean grits out.

She frowns as she looks up at him. "It's going to be bloody, Dean," she warns. She's holding a consecrated knife poised over his chest, ready to carve. Dean's heart skips a beat as he flashes on Hell for a moment, before he shakes his head.

"I know, Bels. Just do it." When she frowns and looks further worried, Dean continues, "I'll be fine."

She nods, trusting him, and cuts the knife into his skin-writing out symbols in Enochian to hide and protect them from Heaven. It hurts like a bitch, but Dean clenches his jaw and lets her get it over with. Afterwards he does hers, and they both end up with strings of Enochian written across their collarbones.

"So," Bela says, when they're finished and all bandaged up. She walks into the sitting room, setting a cup of tea in front of Dean before sitting herself. When Dean makes a face at the tea she hushes him. "Do we have any plans?"

"Besides celebrating for the next few decades? Not a one. Why, any ideas?"

She hmmm-s. "Maybe. I was thinking of going back into business." At the sound Dean makes, she holds up a hand. "This place is all paid up, but it would be nice to have some spending money, get out of the house a bit." It's true, too; neither of them is the type to stay still for too long.

"I remember your business, Bels. And let me tell you right now, ripping old women off and selling dangerous artifacts on the open market isn't my thing." He takes a sip of tea and makes a face.

Bela rolls her eyes. "Yes, I know, Dean. You have morals and whatnot. I swear, you and your brother-" She stops, wincing. Dean's gone still, fingers gripping his cup so tight they go white. "Sorry," she apologizes.

"No, no, it's fine," he tells her. "I can't avoid the subject forever." Though I'd like to, he thinks. "They're out there and now so am I." He pauses. "At least I think they are."

"We could check into it, if you'd like," she says, already half way out of her seat. Dean sighs as she fetches her laptop. "Seriously?"

"Research, Dean. Research."

Dean snorts.

It takes a few hours of surfing the web and a few well placed phone calls to find what they're looking for.

"Here." She points Dean at the screen. A picture in a news article from about a month ago faces him, and there in the background…

"Shit, is that Sam? Bitch finally got a haircut."

"And according to my contacts in the Hunter world, the 'remaining Winchester boy' has been hunting with one Bobby Singer. No mention of an angel with them," she adds. When Dean doesn't respond, she looks over shoulder at him, and sees a hurt expression on his face. Immediately she knows what he is thinking.

"Dean… You know it's possible that they tried. You were only gone six weeks. Maybe…" she says, feeling compelled to play Devil's Advocate.

He shakes his head. "So we get the word out," he says, changing the subject. "Say you're back in the game. Your old customers'll still be interested?"

"Definitely. We can deal in antiquities."

"On the up and up," Dean interjects.

Bela sighs. "As much on the up and up as we get in this business. I can go back to doing seances, spells…"

"For real, not faking it to con crazy old cat ladies out of their savings."

"You're making this difficult, Dean."

"Deal with it, Bels. Keep going."

She huffs, "Fine. We acquire rare objects from less than savory individuals."

"Genk monsters and steal their stuff?"

"Exactly."

Dean grins. "Alright, I like it."

"So you're in?"

"I'm in. Let's make a little money, raise a little Hell, and do a bit of good along the way."

Bela grins at him and Dean grins back.

Then Bela sobers momentarily. "You of course want to stay off the radar."

"Yeah. Don't know how to do that though if I'm gonna be out in the field." He frowns. "This sucks. I refuse to play housewife while you go have all the fun."

A smile slowly starts to spread across Bela's face as a lightbulb flashes above her head. "I may," she says brightly, "have an idea."

A few hours of discussion later:

"It's official then: Lugosi and Steele Antiquities is now in business."


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Okay, so this chapter is a little short... but I'm already partway through chapter 9 which will be longer so hopefully that will make up for it. I've been trying to update this every four or five days, but every once in a while work (oh god retail) will get in the way. _

_Also: I'm kind of weird about timelines, like, I like to nail down months and days and so forth though probably no one else thinks it's important. So, my timeline: __Abandon All Hope (episode 10) is going to have been been early December. Sam, Interrupted (eppy 11) happens late December, and Dean and Bela get back shortly after on January 2nd. January 5th Cas finds out Dean is 'gone' and on the 11th Lugosi and Steele Antiquities is created. Yes, now it is very, very apparent I am kind of (really) crazy._

Chapter 8

January 17, Housatonic, Massachusetts

* * *

_"Yeah. My answer is yeah."_

* * *

"Do you think it was too soon to leave Cas alone?" Sam asks Bobby. They've already identified the ghost as a witch named Maggie Briggs, but other than that, nothing. All Sam's got now is a vague feeling of unease at the thought of a too-still too quiet Cas alone in Bobby's house.

"Not like we had much of a choice, Sam," Bobby responds. "We can't watch 'im forever."

"But twelve days? He's still barely speaking."

"No one else to cover this one," Bobby says gruffly. Secretly he agrees with Sam. They've had Cas on suicide watch ("Can angels even do that?") since he crash landed in the salvage yard. Essentially, they have a near-comatose angel on their hands.

After three days they ended up lying to make him start talking again.

_"We'll find, Dean. We'll bring him back."_

_"What's done can be undone, boy."_

_"We don't even know if it's true."_

_"If there's a way out of the Pit, we'll find it. We just gotta keep lookin'."_

Cas watched them with hopeless eyes and Bobby's heart had broke a little. The angel obviously felt responsible, God knows why. Cas is like Dean that way: the whole weight of the world on his shoulders.

"I just wish we could have brought him along," Sam says. "I don't like the idea of him unsupervised."

"He's as old as time, Sam. He don't need a sitter."

"You know what I mean." Sam takes another bite of his salad and thinks how Dean would be making fun of him if he were here. Dean would be sitting across from him, eating - - what was it - - a Bacon Burger Turbo, and judging him with his eyes. Sam misses his brother on a level he can't voice, not even to Bobby, like a piece of something physical has been torn out of him.

Sam is distracted as he walks later that night, wondering how the hell his brother could have caved after only a month in the Pit. He hadn't buckled for thirty years, and now…

A sharp sting strikes him in the neck.

"What?"

He passes out.

* * *

It's the first time he's been left alone, Cas observes. It's relieving. No Bobby giving him awkward looks, no more Sam looking like he might give him a hug. Cas suddenly has a keen sense of exactly how Dean must have felt growing up with his brother.

They are gone because Sam and Bobby have a job in Massachusetts so Cas is staying at Bobby's to run the phones. Bobby'd given him a brief rundown, quizzed him a few times, and given him a self-written manual on what to expect from each phone, how to respond, and the usual aliases from the Hunters Bobby fields calls for. "Don't screw up," was the last instruction he gave before he and Sam drive off.

Now Cas is staring blankly between the bank of phones and the books open in front of him. "The Afterworld," "Styx," and a stack of relatively unknown volumes written in a dead dialect of ancient Greek; Bobby was excited to find Cas could read (and speak) it.

Cas yawns.

That's another thing he has to worry about that he doesn't want Sam and Bobby to know the full gravity of. He's falling. Flying is getting more and more exhausting. He sleeps sometimes. Sam'd asked earlier if Jimmy's soul will move on if Cas falls and Cas told him yes, even though Jimmy died when his body was blasted apart by Chuck's archangel. Cas's vessel is his own.

Deep down Cas is frightened by the prospect of mortality. There's nothing for him to live for - - his home is off limits, his family will not take him back even if he did want to return, and the only person he ever wanted is gone.

But he'll stay because of Sam and Bobby, because Dean would want him to look out for them and help end the Apocalypse. And he'll keep looking for a way to save Dean because he can't find it in himself to give up completely. He owes Dean more than that. He…

A phone rings.

There's nothing for it. He picks up the phone and says, "Yes?"


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Chapter 9, yaaay! First off, thank you reviewers! NamelesslyNightlock, Fulminata, and erinmorgan, it is very much appreciated; you guys rock! I did not understand how awesome reviews were till I started writing this, and now I find myself... craving them... Also, if you catch any discrepancies or have any suggestions, let me know. Now, disclaimers, disclaimers, I own nothing but original plot, I used some dialogue from Swap Meat, disclaimers, disclaimers, disclaimers. Hooray!_

Chapter 9

_He isn't quite sure what had just happened, how he escaped. A loose chain, a missing bolt, a moment of inattention. Now he's running, red everywhere, fire._

_"WINCHESTER!"_

_He clamps his jaw so tight his teeth ground. He can't afford to scream. There, caves ahead. He just needs to get into the dark, needs to hide._

_"WINCHESTER! WHERE ARE YOU? WE'RE NOT DONE PLAYING YET!"_

_He trips, gets back up, almost to the caves, but something is behind him. God, they're following, what is he going to do if they catch him, he won't go back, can't go back—_

_"Take my hand." There's a face ahead in the darkness of the caves and a small, delicate palm outstretched to take his. The voice is familiar and accented. It's—_

_"Take my hand, Dean."_

_He doesn't think after that. He dives forward to the caves and locks their hands. When he feels her fingers weave through his, he feels, for the first time in six years, almost safe._

* * *

January 17, New York City, New York

"I still think my name shoulda been listed first." Dean is being fitted for a suit and he is not happy about it.

"And _I_ still can't believe you gave yourself an alias based off Barbara Steele."

He shrugs. "She was hot. Way hotter than Boris Karloff, that's for sure," he mutters.

Bela rolls her eyes and looks back down at her laptop. She's seated across from where Dean is standing and the tailor is circling him, taking measurements. She smirks when she hears, "Hey, not happening, buddy," and sees Dean bat the man's hand away from his inseam from the corner of her eye.

With one last click she finds what she's looking for. "Aha! Here!" she exclaims, turning the laptop around to face Dean. He squints at the enlarged picture of a goat-man holding a horn aloft and tries not to laugh.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Dean. It's the Cornucopia. It's the perfect take to show people we're back in the game.

"Okay, so how do we get it?"

"It's being held by a group of witches in Idaho, followers of the demon Achelous."

"Never heard of the guy."

"Because he's ancient; there are arguments as to whether he existed or not in the first place. He was worshipped as a river god in ancient Greece."

"Wow, he had them fooled. A god, really?"

She shrugs. "There were gods for everything then. Every forest, every valley, every river housed a deity. Anyways, supposedly the hero Heracles fought with him and tore off one of his horns." Dean snickers. "Dean, be serious. It's pricey, one of a kind, and relatively harmless. If we get ahold of it we'll be back on the map."

"What does it do?" He winces as a pin 'accidentally' pricks him; he has his suspicions. He's pretty sure the tailor doesn't like him.

"It is supposed to provide 'unending nourishment.' What it really does is supply a never-ending source of Greek wine."

"…we're selling this? Can it make beer?"

"We're selling it. It's worth a fortune."

"Done," the man with the measuring tape says. Dean looks down at himself and grimaces.

"You're seriously going to make me wear this," he says - - not asks because he _knows_ she's serious, he just wishes otherwise.

"Yes," Bela agrees. She looks him up and down, assessing the work; then she grins. "You look smashing."

Dean glances at the bill and chokes. "This costs more than I spend on clothes in a year."

Bela snorts. "This outfit costs more than you've spent on clothes in _your life. _You're in a serious business now, Winchester. You have to look the part."

"I don't like it."

She pats him on the shoulder comfortingly. "There, there, Dean." She hands the front desk her new credit card.

"You suck."

"Endearments, how sweet. And you love me, darling."

Weird thing is, he does.

In Hell, they'd talked about a lot of things. Dean had explained about the angels and the demons and Yellow Eyes' end game. How Ruby had screwed them over, how Lillith was dead ("I heard") and just how, exactly, he'd broken the first seal.

He didn't - - couldn't - - ask for forgiveness, but she forgave him anyway. That's just Bela.

_"When'd you get so nice?" he asks, desperate for something, anything._

_She gives him a small smile. "Hell changes people, Dean. You know this. I did a lot of unsavory things to break free and even worse to stay so. In your place, I would have done the same thing - - I was just never given the choice."_

_Dean's quiet. "You're not so bad, you know?"_

_"No, I am. You just like me anyway."_

* * *

Jan 18, Housatonic, Massachusetts

Sam wakes up tied to a chair this time. The two stupid teens are arguing over the body he's wearing and he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He's totally screwed, but it doesn't change the fact that this situation is utterly ridiculous.

When the demon inhabits the girl, Sam knows it immediately.

"Don't touch her!"

Trevor reaches out to touch her. "Nora, you okay?" When she turns he recoils.

With black eyes, she responds, "Oh yeah. I'm peachy." She straightens out. "So, what'd you call me here for, skippy? Unless… It's dinnertime?"

"What? I-I n-no. Uh, we have Sam Winchester's body."

Nora suddenly looks interested. "You do? Where?"

"Trevor, keep your mouth shut!"

Nora turns, cocks her head. "Sam? Is that you in there?" She frowns at Trevor. "If that's Sam's soul, kid, where's his meat suit?"

"Uh, it's being inhabited…"

Sam wishes he had his hands free so he could slap the kid upside the head. He still can't believe Gary took off with his body. It's no surprise the kid took off first chance he had; Gary's life was no picnic. The gluten thing alone...

"…By a powerful warlock named Gary."

Nora starts laughing. "Oh, this is going to be fun. Don't you think, Sam?" Seeing Sam's face, she quiets a little, but still looks amused. "Poor, poor Sam. You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?" Sam wants to keep her talking. If he has a little more time, maybe he can get out of these ties (God, this kid must be an Eagle Scout or something), or give Bobby time to find him.

She tilts her head like she's listening to something. "No dice, Sam. Seems the boss doesn't want you to know. Wants you focused, no distractions. Doesn't matter now, anyway. Once we get that nice body of yours…"

"Uh," Trevor says. "Isn't there a reward?"

Sam doesn't resist rolling his eyes this time. This kid is a moron.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's/Underhill's Note: So, chapter 10! First off, apologies for it's lateness; we've been training people at work and I'm goddamn exhausted. Also, I've been getting twitchy since I hadn't watched a horror movie for like...two weeks. After like, a week without horror, I start to lose it, so last night I watched a bunch of people get slaughtered and it was GLORIOUS (I have problems). ...I need to lay off the caffeine, what was I talking about? OH! Disclaimers! MOOOORE disclaimers! DISCLAIMERS FOREVER_

* * *

_"I've never had the occasion, okay?" For some reason, Castiel is embarrassed to admit this to Dean. He has never felt embarrassment before, but he does now. He wants Dean to think well of him, he wants…_

_"All right." Dean gets up, grabs his jacket. Cas looks at him in question. "Let me tell you something. There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."_

_Castiel follows. When it comes to Dean Winchester, Castiel will always follow._

Jan 18, Housatonic, Massachusetts

Sam figures he should pray more often. Cas responds quick, immediate, blasting the demon out of Nora in a flash of light. He unties Sam and looks him up and down.

"You look different," he says.

Sam blinks in bemusement. "Are you kidding? Please say you're kidding."

"Why would I be kidding."

Sam sighs and snags Cas' cell phone from his pocket. He dials Bobby, third on speed dial. Sam is second. Dean is still first because Cas won't let anyone change it.

"Hey, Bobby. Yeah, I'm aware I sound like a sixteen year old. You found him? Good. Punch him for me. Yeah, I KNOW that I'm gonna be wearing the bruise, I don't care, I want the kid to feel it now. Okay, here's the address." He rattles it off and sits back with Cas to wait. He'd been worried for a moment if Bobby would be able to handle himself, but he shouldn't have underestimated him. Wheelchair or not, Bobby is a badass. He bet Bobby ran Gary over with it.

"Thanks, Cas. Nick of time there."

Cas nods. "Yes, it was very timely."

Sam sighs, and looks heavenward. Cas, master of restatement.

"In the future, I may not be able to find you fast enough though, with your ribs engraved. You may want to find another partner different from Bobby."

"Cas - - "

"I do not mean to insult Bobby, I have no doubt of his abilities, but perhaps his skills could be put to better use elsewhere."

"Yeah, why don't you tell him that."

"I would rather not."

Neither would Sam, but Cas has a point. But who else could he hunt with...

* * *

Jan 21st,

The Cornucopia is as long as Dean's arm and as heavy as a goddamn toddler. Dean passes it over to Bela and she almost falls over with the weight of it. She would be more bothered if she weren't distracted by the ornate carvings that were sure to raise the price on it.

Dean's surprised at how unassuming the horn is, and pleased that they didn't have to deal with the damn demon the thing came off of, because damn is it huge. Shaking his head, he wipes the blade of his knife against his vest, relishing in Bela's wince (hey, she made him wear this stuff). "You know what might help next time?"

"Some casual clothes?" she laments.

"Ruby's knife. We could kill them a lot faster that way."

"You just don't want to memorize the exorcisms," she accuses.

"Heh. Yeah." Knife clean, he surveys the carnage around them.

"Well, that was unexpected," he says. "Forget to mention something?"

"Alright, so half of them were demons," Bela concedes. "But they were all still witches."

"Your information source? Sucks."

Bela snorts. "Don't blame me. Blame the spirits. I only read what they told me."

"I told you so! Ouija boards are only good for slumber parties!"

"And you would know this how?"

Dean has no response.

"So, what now?" he asks, failing at nonchalantly changing the subject.

"Now…"

* * *

"Paperwork? Are you serious? Fucking PAPERWORK?"

Bela raises an eyebrow and passes him a stack of papers. "Sign those." Dean snatches them with a dirty look and Bela smiles sweetly.

"Invoices? Bank statements? What the hell is all this?" he demands.

"This is a legitimate business, Dean," Bela tells him, turning back to her own papers. "What do you expect? That we keep our money in our mattress?" At Dean's thoughtful look, Bela says, "NO."

"Awww…" Dean pouts and stares down at the pile of sheets in front of him. "I thought I was done with homework."

"Suck it up, darling."

"This is worse than research."

Bela smiles. She almost can't wait til tax season.

* * *

Feb 4

Sam is dreaming when Anna contacts him. He is not happy. And is extremely embarrassed.

"What are you doing here, Anna? This is private!"

"I can see. This is what you dream about?"

THIS IS AWKWARD, says a voice in his head, suspiciously like Dean's. That happens to him sometimes, like a running commentary in his head. He is so used to Dean in the driver's seat while he rides shotgun that he can practically hear his brother's voice out loud.

At his silence, Anna sits down next to him. "I can't find you."

"Oh. Uh. Cas marked us." He waves his hand at his ribs.

"Cas. Right. Now, there's a friend you can count on."

"What?"

Anna scoffs. "He didn't tell you?"

Sam is getting annoyed at how long the conversation is taking. "Can you get to the point?"

"He betrayed me. He turned me over to Heaven, prison. All the torture-"

"He's different now," Sam interrupts, because it's true. And what Anna's saying is probably true too, but that was before Cas rebelled, and he's even more different since Carthage.

"I'm sure," she says dryly.

"What do you need, Anna? I'm kind of trying to sleep here."

"I need you to meet me. 225 Industrial. And please… hurry."

Sam wakes up. He rubs a hand across his face and sits up. "God dammit. CAS!"

Sam's been hunting solo for a couple weeks now and Bobby's been back at the house researching various cases for various Hunters. He has time for it now, as Cas is still running the phone lines.

Turns out Cas is surprisingly adept at managing the phones. His perfect and natural deadpan makes people uncomfortable enough not to question his authority. Though he is almost always by the bank of phones, there is also always a stack of books in front of him as he continues to research a way to pull a demon - - a very specific demon - - out of Hell. When Sam calls though, Cas always answers.

"Yes?" Cas pops in with a flutter of feathers.

"Anna dropped in on my dreams. She wants me to meet her." He doesn't mention what she said about Cas turning her in.

"I will meet with her," Cas decides. "Where is she located?"

"225 Industrial - - "

Cas disappears.

"Good bye to you too," Sam says. Despite a yawn welling in him, he gets up to brew some coffee. He's not going to be getting anymore sleep anyhow.

Meanwhile…

Dean tosses in his sleep. He is dreaming, though, unlike Sam, his dreams are undisturbed.

Along with angel-proofing their bodies, Dean and Bela had angel-proofed their minds. Anna - - all angels - - cannot access their dreams.

There is, however, one exception.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's/Underhill's Note: So this is a fast update to make up for how long it took to put up the last one. First, I hope it's not too boring, because I worry. Seriously, let me know. That's the thing I love the most out the fanfic community - - it's a COMMUNITY. I like when people tell me what they liked, what they could do without, etc. Advice is good! This is a learning experience for me. Second, thank you reviewers! I adore you! If I could bake you cupcakes, I totally would. Third, disclaimer on using conversation from The Song Remains the Same; it all belongs to CW and the writers and Eric Kripke. The only thing I own is original plot. Fourth... uh. There's a fourth, I swear there was a fourth... Uh. Well! Just remember that this is the second update of the day so read that one before this one! _

Chapter 11

_For Cas it starts just outside the brothel, the night before they confront Raphael. Dean pulls him through the door and into the alleyway just before he bursts out laughing._

_"What's so funny?" Castiel asks._

_Dean has his hands on his knees as he bends over to catch his breath._

_"Oh nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard."_

_For the first time since he met him, Castiel sees a look of joyousness on the Hunter's face, and deep in the pit of his stomach he WANTS._

_It's a foreign feeling to him, one he's only observed in humans, and it takes him a while to realize what it is. _

_He silently begins to freak out._

_He's not supposed to want things. He's not supposed to feel. He is told he was made to obey and he has faithfully followed that tenant. Until now. Until Dean. _

_In the car he watches the different emotions flit over Dean's face and resists the urge to touch. To touch Dean's face, his hair, to run his fingers over Dean's smile. Without waiting for Dean to finish talking, Castiel flies away._

Feb 4, 225 Industrial

225 is a warehouse and Anna is unhappy to see him. She is very clear about that. Honestly, Cas isn't pleased to see her either.

"You want to help?" Cas asks. He doesn't believe her for a second; she's got a blade behind her back.

"Yes."

"Then what are you doing with that knife?"

She pauses to gather herself and argue in a new direction.

"I'm not allowed to defend myself?"

"Against whom? That blade doesn't work against angels. It's not like this one." He brandishes his own blade. "Maybe you're not working for Heaven, but there's something you're not telling me."

She says nothing for a long moment, then:

"Sam Winchester has to die."

Castiel listens as Anna presents her argument. She has a point, he hates to admit, but that doesn't matter. He's failed one Winchester, he won't fail the other.

* * *

Feb 5, New York City, New York

_"So suck it."_

_Dean fires._

_A few blissful, unbelievable moments pass, then:_

_"Ooowww."_

_Dean freezes. Lucifer is back up, staring right at him._

_"That _hurt._ You're proving yourself to be more trouble than you're worth, Dean." He looks thoughtful and Dean's insides knot. "Maybe another forty years in the basement might do you some good."_

_"Wha-?" Sam gapes. He doesn't look like he understands, but Dean's brain has already caught up._

_Lucifer smiles. Lifts his fingers next to his face. "Time to go back now, Dean."_

_Sam screams. Lucifer snaps his fingers. Sam blinks once and Dean's down._

_There's bright light, hellfire, oh god it's - - _

_The dream goes still, like someone hit a pause button. Dean blinks and blinks again. "What the…" He's had this dream almost every night since he's been back but this? This has never happened before._

_"Hey there, Dean."_

* * *

Dean wakes up on a gasp.

Every time he startles out of sleep now, he's half-convinced he's still covered in blood. After that initial panic melts off, the next panic attack ensues as he wonders at the unfamiliar bed he wakes up in. Plush, sod, giant, and with white silk sheets - - nothing like the scratchy, dubiously stained motel beds he has always been accustomed to opening his eyes to. Then he rolls over and finds a tangled mess of brown hair next to him and remembers where he is. New York. Bela's loft.

Safe.

A week ago? A week ago wasn't safe, though he thinks he handled it well enough.

_They're outside an abandoned barn, in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. "Ready?" he asks Bela, each of them with guns drawn on a different side of the door. She nods. She's not ready, but no time like the present._

_The door bursts open as Dean kicks it in without checking to see if it's locked, in true Winchester fashion. _

_It's about as Dean expects, looking like any other witch cult den he's crashed. Dead animals hanging from the walls, the smell of burning herbs, and a big altar in the center with ten women bowed before it. They all whip around at their entrance. The only thing not expected?_

_Half these women have black eyes._

_"Oh son of a… Bela, exorcism!"_

_He doesn't look to see if she's following orders or glaring indignantly at his audacity - - he charges forward, gun blazing._

_Two of the women (humans) flee immediately through a back door. One of the demons looks between them, the back door, and the altar, before following the two women out._

_The four remaining demons snarl and dash for him. He shoots two right off the bat in the kneecaps so they go down, incapacitated. He hears Bela start chanting behind him._

_Two of the witches are grabbing the Cornucopia - - a giant goddamn horn laying on the altar - - and trying to run but seem to be having problems coordinating their movement. The third witch goes after Bela._

_The demons are fast and Dean's gun is knocked out of his hand in an instant. A black-eyed bitch with blonde hair and pale skin snarls in his face while the other holds him in place._

_"Dean and Bela, fancy seeing you two here."_

_The demon strokes Dean's cheek in an affectionate manner and Dean shivers. It's too reminiscent of Hell and the demon knows it._

_"Escaped the Pit only a month ago and already dying to jump back in."_

_Dean grits his teeth and doesn't respond. He's trying to break away enough to grab his knife on his belt. The demon behind him laughs in his ear as the blonde one in front of him keeps talking._

_"We know what you did, Dean." Not listening, not listening, Dean tells himself. "We know what you LET them do." Not listening, not listening, not listening._

_"Did you enjoy it, Dean? Did you like it when - - "_

_The demon behind him screams and lets go. Bela is there, her own knife sticking out of its throat. "How about you, bitch? Did you like THAT?" she asks. Dean leaps for the wide-eyed blonde in front of him as Bela starts the exorcism again. This has just become personal._

They'd both been a little green around the gills after that, shaking and touching each other's faces and arms to ensure themselves that they were still there and whole. After? They'd found the nearest diner and ordered plate after plate of pie. Nothing calms the nerves like pie.

Especially meringue.

"Breakfast!" he hears from the other room. He sighs and rolls out of bed to make his way to the kitchen. Bela is sitting at the kitchen counter sipping a cup of tea. There's no plate in front of her, and nothing cooking on the stove.

"Uh… You said breakfast?" He scratches the back of his head and yawns.

She grins smugly. "Yes, once you make it. Two eggs for me."

"Oh you did not just trick me into making you breakfast."

She takes another sip of tea. "And toast, too. I like mine a little burnt."

"Oh, I'll burn it alright," he mutters, padding barefoot around the kitchen. He grabs the eggs from the fridge and grabs a pan. Despite his grumbling, the domesticity is nice after their first job. It's calm, quiet, and birds are chirping outside the window.

It was both satisfying and disconcerting getting back into the "antiquities" game, but the Cornucopia has been sold now and the paperwork has been filed in their brand new file cabinets. He cracks an egg and glances past Bela at their new workspace.

Bela's sitting room has been converted into an office, much to her chagrin. Gone are the settees and end tables and in are the twin mahogany desks and filing cabinets and the poster Dean hung on the wall of the cat captioned "Hang in there, Baby!"

"Anything on the schedule?" he asks. He stirs the eggs and starts humming quietly to himself. After a week organizing finances, he's ready to get back out there.

"Actually, I might have a job…"

"Oh, really?" He shovels some eggs on two plates, the most burnt ones on Bela's, and sets one down in front of her. "Shoot."

As she speaks, the end of his dream fades away.

* * *

Zachariah is pleased, considering. Anna has "escaped" and is undoubtedly creating chaos for Sam Winchester. It's important to keep him and the rebel angel busy and away from the truth.

They're keeping Dean Winchester's escape on a need to know basis - - only the higher-ups and not the foot soldiers - - and they only meet in certain people's dreams for security.

Meanwhile, they have started prepping Adam Winchester. Just in case Dean turns out to be a disappointment (or they can't find him) they have to get the third brother ready, toughen him up. Zachariah smiles a nasty smile. He has the perfect idea.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's/Underhill's Note: First of all, sorry for the late posting. I've been working a lot on very little sleep and pretty much passing out the minute I get home. Second, thank you again reviewers! Internet hugs! If I leave something out you that you wanted to see (like a scene that happened off screen), let me know, and I can try and add it in next chapter. Third: DISCLAIMERS I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR SCENES USED FROM THE SONG REMAINS THE SAME only original content and I love you Mr. Kripke and all dudes and ladies who work for the show and network! Fourth: I'll try and update again in a day or two; I should be able to get some more sleep. So, chapter 12, yaaaay!_

Chapter 12:

Feb 5, Pontiac, Illinois

Claire remembers very little of the short time she was the angel Castiel's vessel. She remembers a brightness, and a heat of a star under her skin. She remembers seeing her father's face as he pleads with her/Castiel to spare his daughter's life.

Claire tells her mother she remembers nothing.

It's been two years since her father disappeared in the middle of the night, his departing words only that he wasn't her father. It's been a year since she understood why, when Jimmy reappeared and disappeared again in the space of a few days.

Claire's fourteen now and she knows with a certainty she can't explain that her father's dead. Not his body - - no, Castiel inhabits that - - but her dad? He died months ago. She knows the latter (that Castiel is alive) the same way she knows the angel is falling: Claire was a vessel, is STILL a vessel, and she hears things. Claire Novak is, like Anna Milton was, turned into Radio Angel. Lucky for her, no one's noticed yet.

As the days pass she hears more and more and is getting scared. She tries to keep her nerves to herself but her mother notices, tries to get her to talk, but what can Claire say? She says nothing, tells her mom she's stressed about her first year of high school.

She has no way to protect herself or her mother. She is relying on an angel walking around in Jimmy Novak's body to keep his promise and keep her family safe. She has to believe that Castiel, bitter as she feels about him sometimes, is righteous enough to keep an oath to a dying man.

* * *

Feb 5 (1978), Lawrence, Kansas

Claire Novak is the furthest thing from Castiel's mind as he slams into the concrete. Through a haze he sees Sam trying to say something to him - - can't hear him, what…

Finally putting together some semblance of what Sam is saying, he responds, "I'm fine. I'm much better than I expected." _Because I expected to be dead, and a little disappointed I'm not._

"Cas?"

The world is getting hazy again…

"CAS!"

Everything goes black.

* * *

The room is booked up for five days in case… Sam doesn't want to think what the case may be. He hopes Cas wakes up soon, but isn't counting on it. Cas barely had the juice to get them here, how long is it going to take him to juice up for the trip home? The only consolation he has is that Anna probably landed in the same condition.

At a pay phone he looked up the Winchesters. 485 Robintree. He'll steal a car, drive over there, and…

And he'll figure it out when he gets there. It's times like these he really misses Dean.

* * *

Feb 5, 11 PM, in the air somewhere between New York and Arkansas

_Another hook in the shoulder, stringing him up. Hands all over him, touching, and they won't stop, won't stop, and God, they can't be, they WOULDN'T - -_

_The dream slows and stops and the voice is back._

_"Dean! I need to talk to you. No, no, no, no, no, don't wake up - - "_

Dean snaps awake.

He goes through the regular morning panic - - he's not covered in blood, he's not in a motel room and he's…

Wait. He's not in the loft.

Oh God, he thinks, remembering. He's on an airplane. Bela somehow convinced him to get on an airplane and they're flying to Arkansas. He groans and covers his face with his arm.

"How did you convince me to do this again?" he asks. He tries to steady his breathing.

"Because a Whope priest made a turquoise amulet centuries ago, and it's worth a cool quarter million."

"A what priest?"

Bela makes a face at him. "You didn't read the printout I gave you at all, did you?"

"It's not high school and I'm not doing homework."

She snorts. "Fine. Whope, Lakota goddess of peace. Her chief priest made an amulet and, story is, she imbued it with protective powers. Whether that's TRUE is up for debate, but…"

"It looks pretty?"

"Dean."

"Shows prestige and wealth for party guests to see?"

"Bingo."

Dean straightens. He's awake now and needs to concentrate. "Who's got it?"

"Pawn shop," Bela says, pleased. "The spirits gave me a name, location, and even a price."

"Nice of them. How much do we have to shell out?"

Bela grins. "Fifty dollars."

Dean whistles long and low. A plane ride for a quarter mil profit? "Maybe flying isn't so bad."

The plane lurches; Dean's stomach rolls and his face goes green.

Bela pats him on the shoulder and hands him a puke bag. "There's the spirit!"

* * *

Feb 5 (1978), close to midnight, Lawrence, Kansas

Sam does what Dean would do after a day like the one he's had - - pour himself a drink. Sam didn't approve of Dean's alcoholism (though he is no saint in that department himself), but he's really starting to understand it. Everything without Dean is twice as hard.

God, standing in that house with his mother and father, as his mom tells him it's 'too late' was like a knife in the chest.

_"This is bigger than us. There are so many more lives at stake - - "_

_"You don't understand. I can't!" she cries. Her face is full of pain and fear. "It's too late. I'm… I'm pregnant."_

_Sam freezes. She's pregnant. She's pregnant. He looks down at her stomach and realizes - -_

_He reaches out tentatively and she flinches but doesn't stop him. He puts his large palm against her belly._

_That's Dean in there. _

_Jesus._

_He hasn't told his mother that Dean in the future is dead. Hell, he hadn't told her she'd have two children. He let her assume that he was an only child because who knew how she would react to the idea one of her kids is already dead. She thinks she's carrying Sam right now, but it's DEAN._

_Without Dean it was harder to convince Mary that he was her son in the first place. Dean had memories of her, memories he kept as fresh as the day he made them. Sam has nothing, relying on facts and descriptions of what his dad was like. It took a long time to convince her._

_He resists the sudden urge to take Mary and Dean and run. It won't solve anything, he tells himself, and he knows it's true. But for a moment he let's himself imagine…_

_John comes in. "Hey, we got a problem. Those blood things, the sigils? They're gone."_

_Yeah, Sam really wishes his Dean were here._

He's taking a gulp from the cheap cup when Castiel appears and starts to collapse. Sam grabs him and struggles to hold him up.

"Hey. Hey, hey. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Cas."

Cas slumps.

"I got you." He lowers him to sit on the bed. "Damn, Cas. You made it."

Cas blinks stupidly. "I… I did? I'm very surprised." With that, he passes out.

Sam sighs. Team Free Will? They are so screwed.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Chapter 13, woooo! Tried to finish this chapter as fast I could, but I have been sleeping so much lately, dear god. But, before I say anything else, thank you for reviews (hugs for NamelesslyNightlock)! Reviews actually make me want to update. Second, disclaimers as always! I have no rights to Supernatural or any of its characters and all that jazz. Third: Claire. I always felt like she was a loose end, so I wanted to put her in here. Seriously, is it just me or is it the moment a female character makes an appearance in the show, she either disappears or dies? Except Ruby. God I hate fourth season Ruby... Okay, now I've slipped into ranting mode, so I'll end this. I'll try and update again soon!_

Chapter 13

Feb 6-10

_"Would give me anything I wanted if I wore his face, wouldn't you?" A blade scrapes against Dean's ribs. "Wouldn't you, Dean?"_

_He shakes his head. "No. Fuck you, no," he mouths, but emits no sound._

_"I'll wear his face if you just say yes."_

_"You've already got what you want," Dean says. God, he wishes he weren't still humiliated every time they…_

_"I want you to volunteer for it. I want you to say yes to me. You know how important that word is, don't you? It was important to CAS after all."_

_Dean won't cry._

_"Say yes and you can pretend. Say yes and I can be him, just for a while."_

_The scene freezes again. The chains disappear and Dean sits up, gets off the slab. Ahead, a vague shape. The voice is back again._

_"Okay, focus, Dean. You need to NOT WAKE UP."_

_Dean opens and closes his mouth, trying to produce sound, but his vocal cords are cut, he's in Hell and everything hurts, and what is this, this stillness - -_

_"Dean, NO, do not fall back into the dream! You are not in Hell. This is just a dream, and I need to talk to you."_

_Dean opens and closes his mouth again. "Who - - "_

Dean wakes up, leaving the voice swearing as it disappears with the dream.

* * *

It takes a day for Bela to sell the amulet, and by then she's got three more jobs lined up. Because he has no excuse not to, Dean gets stuck with the Whope amulet paperwork, a fact of which he is very resentful. When Dean starts to pout, Bela is unimpressed. "Suck it up, Winchester."

First job is an exorcism for a multi-million dollar company that had just bought an office building in New York. Perfect location and size for the company, but haunted. It's an hour drive from the loft and takes a only a few to complete. They come out with a few bumps and bruises but otherwise unharmed.

Second job takes them to Pennsylvania. A lawyer needs a will found and Bela contacts the spirit of the deceased woman to locate it. Despite Dean's teasing, he knows she has a legitimate knack for seances and the like; it's a skill that helps round out their business.

Third job starts on the 10th, and Dean insists on driving.

_"Is the job on a timer this time?"_

_"No…"_

_"Then we're driving. No planes." He moans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "God, no more planes."_

"It feels wrong to be driving a rental," Dean says from the driver's seat. Motorhead is blasting from the cd player and Bela is wrapped in what looks like a parka. She scowls.

"I'm not talking to you, Winchester."

"… Like cheating somehow. My poor baby, left alone with SAM. Jesus."

Bela reaches out to turn up the heat. "Winter, Dean."

"I thought you weren't talking to me?"

"WINTER. We could have cut the travel time by a day - - at least - - but no, we're driving across the mid-west in the snow. I don't do well in snow, Dean."

"Yeah, your hair's frizzing a little. Didn't want to mention it." He smirks.

"I am going to KILL you."

"Alright, subject change! Tell me more about the case. It's in Montana. There's a statue or something?"

"A fetish - - " Dean snorts a laugh. " - - shut up - - a fetish of a wolf linked to a shifter demigod. It's either Greek or Roman; I won't know until I get a closer look."

"We know who has it?"

"No, just the city. Small town, middle of the country. Shouldn't be too hard to pinpoint."

"Ha! Finally, my skill set."

"Lying, stealing, breaking and entering?"

"Sleuthing, Bela. I have some IDs in my bag. There's a few for you too."

Bela rummages through the back until she finds Dean's duffle. She pulls out a ziplock baggie full of various identification cards. She shuffles through them and makes a face.

"Bobbi Englund? _Zelda Rubenstein?_"

"What? She's short, you're short…"

"And you _wish_ you could pull off a James Lee Curtis."

"That hurts, Bels." He pounds a fist to his heart. "Right here."

Bela sighs. "We're so flying next time," she mutters.

* * *

Feb 11, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Sam's been hanging around Bobby's house for two days now, and Castiel doesn't know why. He's researched a case for the Hunter, has it all lined up, and yet Sam is pacing around looking awkward and shooting worried glances over at Cas. It's giving Cas a headache.

Early afternoon is when Sam gets the guts to settle across from him. "So, uh. Cas." Castiel doesn't look up. He continues working. "I was wondering…"

"Yes, Sam?"

"I never got a chance to ask, but what happened to the search for God?"

Castiel stills. He hasn't discussed it. He still wears the amulet tucked under his shirt that Dean loaned him - - it's not his to throw away, he has to look after it - - but he has ceased looking for his father.

Dean's been to Hell twice now. The idea of his father letting Dean suffer like that, of letting Castiel suffer like this, it's impossible to think of. Even if he did find God, Castiel has nothing to say to him.

Instead of trying to explain all of this to Sam, he responds with the succinct: "Why bother?"

Sam has nothing to say to that. His mouth opens and closes a few times as he searches for words but nothing comes to him. When the FBI phone rings, it's a relief to both of them. The angel picks it up. "Yes?"

Sam's gone by the end of the day.

* * *

It's Adam's fifth birthday, and his mother's home for once. She's got him a chocolate cake, not homemade, but one of those store bought ones with too much icing and pink flowers on the top. Adam doesn't care about the flowers though, or that she didn't make it from scratch. It's a good day because it's just him, her, and a chocolate cake all on his birthday.

He smiles as she looks down at him, handing him a plate and a glass of milk. "Here, honey, take th - - "

A snap of fingers and it all goes away.

"Who are you?" Adam asks. It's a man, sharp suit, bald, a way-too-wide smile and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He doesn't like the look of him at all.

"Me?" The man points at himself. "I'm Zachariah. But that's not important right now. What's important? Is that you're John Winchester's son."

Adam makes a face. His heaven's been disrupted for this? The jackass 'father' who's responsible for him and his mom getting eaten alive? "I don't have a dad," he says.

"Oh no, you _wish_ you didn't have a dad. Fact remains, you do. Fact remains, you have two very disagreeable brothers who don't like following the plans laid in place. So we're going to need you."

"Why would I want to help them, or you?"

Zachariah makes a wide gesture with his arms. "Well, all this, your heaven? It's gone either way. Whether your mom stays up here, that's up to you. You can come with me, or… Well."

Adam gapes. "What the hell are you?" he asks.

"Like I said, I'm Zachariah, and I'm an angel of the Lord. Now let's see if the third brother breaks as fast as the first."


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Hello again! It's chapter 14 time! As usual, I hope it doesn't suck to bad and whatnot. And again, thank you for reviews! Virtual cupcakes (storebought kind because I so cannot bake) for you! Disclaimers disclaimers I own nothing from Supernatural and only the original plot in this fic. Have I missed stuff... I'm a little jumpy/distracted, sorry, not sure why. Hmmmm... Oh, if it hasn't become clear by now, I am obsessed with horror movies, hence horror greats replacing music idols on IDs. In fact, I think I'll go watch a horror movie right now, yeeees, yeeeeessss. So, enjoy (hopefully), and if you have comments, questions, suggestions, let me know! Yaaay!_

Chapter 14

_"How'd you learn all this, anyway?" Dean asks her. They've been moving constantly since he escaped his chains and Bela found him (he thinks it's been a few days but it's kind of hard to tell in Hell), only now just settling in a new hidey-hole. She's warding the walls in Enochian with their blood._

_"Time, Dean. I've been here a long time. More than a century. I've picked up a few things."_

_"Like how to ward off demons?"_

_Bela snorts. "That's easy, and not what you need to worry about. It's the angels we have to look out for."_

_"Angels?"_

_Bela makes a squiggle in blood to finish off a sigil. "Angels. Alistair, your Yellow-Eyes. They're not demons, Dean. They're fallen angels."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Lucifer's not the only angel who fell. He started a rebellion, Dean, got other angels to rally to his cause. When he was cast out so were they, and they became the first 'demons.' But they were never human, not like our garden variety. Hence," she says, gesturing at the large Enochian symbols in front of them, "the angel warding. Demons aren't worth the bother."_

_Dean looks skeptical. "So the most powerful demons?"_

_"Aren't demons at all, correct. Except for that bitch, Lillith, but that's an entirely different story there." She spoke of Lillith with a mix of bitterness and vindication. "Power like those 'demons' wield? It's not something a regular human soul can generate. When it comes down to it? The most dangerous beings in Hell are from Heaven."_

* * *

Feb 11, 9 PM, Montana

_"What's your answer, Dean?" He says it in Cas's voice which isn't fair at all, Dean thinks. He wants… He's weak. He was weak in Hell his first time and he's weak now. But God, he just wants some comfort, wants the blood and fire and the cutting to stop. He wants to feel loved - - he wants to pretend everything is like before, when he thought Cas cared about him. He wants…_

_"Yes."_

_Freeze. Dean groans. Again? _

_"Yeah, well," the voice says, apparently having heard him, "you know if you didn't have these freaking sigils carved all over you and inside of you and fucking all over your psyche then having this conversation would be MUCH easier."_

_Dean's snark cuts through the fuzziness of the dream. "Yeah, well I don't like dicks who walk in my dreams." He frowns. "Why are you here? What are you?" A million questions but he'll settle for those._

_"I'm here because you gave me some good advice a while back, believe it or not, and because this time? My brother went too far. He shouldn't have done this to you, Dean."_

_"Holy fuck, you're an angel. You can't be in here. There's no way you can be in here!"_

_The voice, somehow despite being incorporeal, looks sheepish._

_"Yeah, I'm not exactly all angel anymore. Your little spells and sigils are annoying, but I can get around them with enough time."_

_"And I can't see you WHY?"_

_"Ugh. Another one of those kinks I haven't quite worked out. You kids really went all out on the warding, didn't you?"_

_"Apparently not well enough. Shit. How much more shit are we gonna have to carve on each other to get you assholes to leave us alone?"_

_"You know better than that, Dean. They won't leave you alone. It might take time, but they WILL find you, and they WON'T be nice when they do."_

_Dean crosses his arms. "So what do you propose?"_

_"I need you to find me. It might be a problem."_

_"A problem to find you? What the hell? Can't you just tell me?" Not that he would meet whoever this was._

_"Uh, see, the thing is, I don't really know where I am right now…"_

_This is too ridiculous to be real, Dean thinks, and what is going on, where's Cas, the demon said he'd give him Cas if he just said yes - -_

_"Goddamnit, Dean, I need your help, don't you DARE - - "_

Dean jumps awake. He's in the passenger seat of a rental car, Bela in the driver's seat taking her turn driving while he rests for a while. She notices his jump and asks, "You alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." It wasn't exactly a lie, because for once he's not convinced he's covered in blood and he didn't wake up screaming. But these freaking dreams, what is _with_ them? Sure it's a nice break from Hellfire and meat hooks and - - he cuts off that line of thought immediately - - but it's confusing as hell. And the voice is so familiar and it's KILLING him that he can't place it.

And it's an angel. God. He should tell Bela.

"… Is that classical music playing?"

Bela's grin is smug. "Why yes. Very soothing, isn't it? Much better than your AC/CD."

"AC/_D_C. You've learned nothing from me, have you?" He reaches out to change the radio but Bela's gloved hand smacks him across the back of the hand.

"No. I have to deal with snow, you can deal with some good music for a change." At his groan she says, "Relax. Soak up the culture, Dean. It's good for you."

Dean cuts back his retort. He should tell her, but she actually seems happy at the moment.. After the trip, he tells himself. When they get back to the loft he'll tell her. "How close are we?" he says instead.

"Half an hour out. We'll be there shortly. I've called ahead for a room." They would be sharing one of course, because since they've left Hell they haven't been more than a few yards apart from each other.

Dean straightens in his seat. "So who are we posing as?" he asks eagerly.

"Antiquities dealers."

"…What?"

"We're going as ourselves. There's no reason to lie; we are here on legitimate business."

"But, but," he protests. "That's so boring!"

An indulgent smile plays on her lips. "Aww, poor Dean. That's so sweet, wanting to play dress up."

"Shut up, Bels."

"How about I promise that the next job we use one of your fake badges?"

"Will you be the Bree Abbott to my Jeff Combs?"

"You are utterly ridiculous, Dean Winchester."

"Is that a yes? I think that's a yes."

"That's a yes. Now shut up and let me focus on driving. I'd rather not crash when we're nearly there."

The hotel room Bela arranged for turned out to be a motel room - - something Dean is, of course, used to, but Bela is not. She wrinkles her nose

"This? This is awful."

"Home sweet home!" Dean says, dropping his bag with a thump.

"It is disgusting that you used to be accustomed to living in these conditions."

He flops down on the bed in response then groans.

"Ugh, you're right. The thread count on these sheets? Terrible. Can't wait until we _actually_ get home."

Bela ruffles his hair in response; she likes that he considers New York and the loft home already.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

Dean lifts himself up on his elbows.

"Always." He bounces to his feet. "Let's go.

* * *

They decide to scout out the local bar first - - see what's going on around town, if there's anything they need to worry about. While Bela says it's unnecessary ("This isn't a hunt, Dean"), it's force of habit for the former Hunter. Turns out it's a good idea.

Bela is at one end of the bar chatting up a man who turns out to be an off-duty cop while Dean talks with the night shift bartender.

"Yeah," the man says, turning in his seat. "Weird cases lately. People turning up dead - - almost looks like they've been tortured. Knife wounds that look like burns." The cop takes a swig from his beer and attempts to put an arm around Bela but she swings away. The man frowns.

"Really now?" she says. "Do you think they're connected? Did the victims know each other?" She blinks guilelessly at him and smiles.

"Maybe. And yeah, some of them knew each other. Local guys, worked down at the mill. Found all the bodies pretty close to a local bar, O'Hara's." He gives her what he thinks a charming smile that turns out as more of a leer. "Say, wanna get out of here?" He attempts to put his arm around her again but Dean is suddenly there, pulling him away.

"She's not interested, buddy," he says, and puts himself between the man and Bela. Bela hops off the stool, slaps a twenty on the bar, and starts walking for the door.

"Aw, sorry man, didn't know she was spoken for," the man says, putting his palms up in defense. "No harm no foul, right?"

Dean rolls his eyes and follows Bela out of the bar. She's waiting for him outside.

"If you say 'I told you so,' Winchester…"

"Would I do that?" Silence. "Okay, I totally would. Think something supernatural's up in this town?"

Bela huffs out a resigned sigh. "Most likely."

"And with our luck, it has to do with the case."

"Undoubtedly," she confirms. "Well, let us head to O'Hara's. We'll see."

Dean claps his hands together eagerly.

"Good! I could use another beer."

* * *

Feb 12, 12:30 AM, in the Impala

Sam's behind the wheel again; he's been in no mood to sleep lately, too jumpy, too worried, too everything. He's trying to keep it together for Cas and Bobby, but truth is he's not doing so hot.

Cas is really scaring him. Outwardly, the angel seems fine, but Cas's hiding something. He hits his hand against the wheel. "Damn it!"

He needs something to do, but he's finished with the case Cas and Bobby fished up for him in record time and it's too early in the morning to find a paper to search for another. He's just going to drive. If he keeps driving…

But there's no Dean in the driver's seat. Sam's not riding shotgun. It's just him and the Impala, and it feels wrong. Dean's in Hell. Cas is broken. Bobby's not saying anything. And Sam?

Sam is REALLY trying to hold it all together.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Okay, chapter, er, 15? So, not as long as I wanted, but I wanted to put something up before I passed out tonight. Also: thank you reviewers! You make me so happy! Also also: disclaimers. Oh so many disclaimers. Like, I don't have any rights to Supernatural, only the original plot in this fic. So, uh... what else? I am so tired... Sooooo tired. I should probably go to bed. Right? Right. Okay. Night guys!_

Chapter 15

Feb 12, 8 AM, Montana

_"Yes."_

_"There's a good boy," it says. The demon's face melts away, its body melts away, and all that is left is…_

_"Cas," Dean breathes out, almost a sob. "God, Cas, I missed you."_

_Cas smiles and touches Dean's cheek gently._

_"Dean."_

_And it is Cas, down to the last detail, ridiculous trench coat, goofy hair, and that stiff angle of his neck that makes him look perpetually uncomfortable in his own skin. Dean sobs with relief, because it's Cas, it's Cas, it's Cas._

_Castiel leans his face down to Dean's lips, breathes against them. Then:_

_"You don't have to worry, by the way," the Voice says._

_Dean groans. He hates this. He hates all of this._

_"Worry about your dumbass self?" he snarks, trying not to visibly shake. "Apparently not, if you don't even know where you are. How does a person lose themselves, anyway?" He slides out from under Cas's body and towards the Voice._

_"Shut your pie hole," it says. "After what I pulled off, it's a goddamn miracle I'm still on the same goddamn planet. Thought I was gonna get blasted somewhere new there for a second. But! I'm talking about the angels."_

_"Ugh. What about them? You…them… ugh."_

_"Don't try and wrap your pretty, dumb head around it, Dean. I'm talking about how the other angels can't get in your noggin, Bela's either, not that they're really itching to. It's you that's important, after all."_

_"Don't remind me."_

_"You know," the Voice says, thoughtful, "I'm surprised. I would've thought you'd split by now, pulling the whole protective older brother thing not wanting to 'endanger' her." I'm impressed."_

_Dean scowls. "Shut your fucking mouth."_

_The faint outlines of hands come up in a placating manner. "I'm not messing with you," the voice says. "I'm serious. It's about time you quit that self-sacrificing crap."_

_"Hilarious." He pauses before sharing, "Bela said the same thing."_

_"Wise woman. I might like to meet her someday."_

_Dean snarls. "You stay the hell away from her, you got me? You come anywhere near her - - "_

_"Ah, and there's the overly aggressive Winchester I know! Good to see you're still in there! Because I need the Dean Winchester who can…"_

_"Dean."_

_It's Cas, Cas back by the slab, and he's calling Dean, and Dean, Dean's scared because Cas has a look in his eyes that isn't bright and lo - - caring and he's centered his attention on Dean and…_

_"Oh son of a, dammit, Dean! Can you not concentrate for five minutes?!"_

_Dean snaps back to the Voice, and is it just him or did its hands suddenly gain more definition? Like they're almost solid now._

_"Huh?"_

_"Good, now I need you to look something up. Better yet, get the girl to do it, I bet she's smarter."_

_"Hey!"_

_"Have her search news stories for all current events concerning met - - "_

_"Dean."_

_Dean turns back to Cas. He starts walking back. There's no escaping. There's no getting out. He lies back down on the table._

_"Now where were we?"_

* * *

Dean opens his eyes, mouth half open on a scream that's stuck in the back of his throat. Jesus. He rolls into a sitting position and fists his hands to his temples. Just a dream. Fuck, it's just a dream, he isn't there anymore, it wasn't his fault, anyone would have done the same… That's what Bela tells him when he wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares. He turns his head to her sleeping form, her hair a mess, and her feet where her pillow should be; somehow in the middle of the night she'd gotten turned around, and her fingers are curled around his ankles. When he wiggles his feet she frowns.

"Stop that. I'm sleeping." She burrows her head further into the covers.

"It's 8 AM, Bels. Rise and shine!"

Bela moans and wraps her arms around his legs.

"Not moving."

"Are you suuure?" he sing songs. "I've got a pair of scissors that says otherwise."

She stills. "What."

"You know, I bet you could do with a haircut." Dean tries to shift towards the edge of the bed but Bela's arms have tightened. "Wait here a minute while I get them."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would."

She sighs and rolls away from him. "Okay," she relents. "On one condition."

"Name it."

"You have to go get breakfast."

Dean smiles and tickles her. Bela shrieks and falls off the bed.

"Good, you're up! Now we can _go out_ for breakfast! I'm thinking pancakes."

* * *

Feb 12, 11 AM, the Impala

Sometime in the early morning, Sam had pulled over to the side of the road to sleep. Exhaustion had caught up with him, and he knows that even in Hell, Dean would find a way to kill him if he ruined his car.

He sighs as he glances at his watch. Nearly lunch. Ugh. He pulls his phone from his pants pocket and checks for missed calls. There's one message.

"Sam, it's Castiel. Please call me when you get this."

Sam smiles. In the month and a half that Cas has been at Bobby's, the angel has become remarkably adept at phone etiquette. He still hasn't gotten the hang of the art of casual conversation down ("Small talk?") but he no longer leaves ridiculous messages on Sam's machine.

Without sitting up he dials Cas's number. "Sam," the angel answers.

"Cas." Silence. "You wanted to talk to me?" he prompts.

"Yes, indeed. I have a case for you." At this, Sam does sit up.

"A case? Where?" he asks.

"Connecticut."

"Wait, isn't Rufus in Pennsylvania right now? Can't you get him to take care of it? I'm kind of…" Okay, so he's not in the middle of anything, but God, can't two cases ever be a few hours from each other instead of a few states? He sighs. "Okay. What's the case?"

* * *

They hadn't ended up going to O'Hara's last night. Bela had put her foot down when Dean suggested another drink. "I'm not holding your head above a toilet, Winchester." So now they've got to either wait til noon for the bar to open or sneak in now while it's still morning. Well, still morning but AFTER pancakes.

It doesn't take long for them to end up at an IHOP. Bela makes a face the whole time as she picks at her short stack, and Dean laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his coffee.

By 11 AM they're outside O'Hara's, Bela kneeling at the backdoor with a set of lock picks. This, of course, is after they'd argued over who got to do the initial breaking and entering. ("Rock beats scissors, Dean, suck it up.") When the door clicks open, Dean mutters, "I could've done it faster." Bela punches him in the shin and Dean yelps. Goddamnit. That's gonna leave a bruise."

Bela smiles sweetly up at him and holds her hand up. Dean pulls her to her feet and slowly swings the door in. They move quietly, in tandem, used to each other's movements after the four years they spent with each other on the run in Hell.

It's dark. Really dark. Dean resists pulling out a flashlight though; he recognizes now that how he and Sam had hunted in the past? Stupid. They'd been, as Bela put it, "reckless, infantile morons." Although he would have put it in kinder terms, like, "slightly less careful than we probably should have been brothers." Y'know. Something nice.

They've made no noise. No creaks in the floor, no footsteps, no loud breathing. But within two minutes, Dean hears a 'click.'

There's a gun aimed at his back.

He hears another. One at Bela's back.

"Well, well, well," a grizzled voice says. "Look at what we have here. Intruders."

There's laughter. Dean is immediately reminded of a day a long time ago in a bar now burned to the ground. Dean stands stock still though, because it's not just his life on the line here, and not Sam's.

"Bela," Dean says. The gun digs further into his back.

"Yes, darling?" she responds, voice cool.

"Is there a gun to your back too?"

"Shut up," the grizzled voice says again.

"I do believe there is," Bela says, ignoring the voice. "Not very welcoming to guests, are they?"

"Nope, not really," Dean says back.

A moment's silence. "You two have got to be some kind of idiot, dontcha?"

"I prefer 'cocky'," Dean says.

"Really? I like 'bold'."

"Oh, not bad, I change my answer to hers."

"Shut up!" another voice says. Dean darts his eyes to the side, and sees Bela in the corner of his eyes - - she's rolling her eyes.

"Dennis, pat him down. Carli, you pat down the girl."

Both Dean and Bela stiffen. They don't like other people touching them. They don't fight though when the pair starts shuffling through their personal effects.

"Gun," Dennis calls out, pulling Dean's gun from the back of his pants.

"One here, too," Carli says, taking a small pistol from Bela. The woman ejects the clips and curses. "Silver bullets, boss."

"Hunters," the man says derisively, and steps out of the gloom. "Turn on the lights." The room is suddenly flooded with light and reveals their surroundings. Ordinary bar. Pretty clean, but still a dive. Shuttered windows, heavy doors, a pool table in the corner near a jukebox. And around them, about ten men and women all armed and wearing various looks of anger and wariness on their faces.

"Fuck," Dean mutters. _We are so screwed. _


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Chapter 16, and it's the longest so far (I cannot believe I am proud of an extra hundred word BUT I TOTALLY AM)! So, yes, I know I'm evil for the cliffhanger last chapter. Whenever I've read fics and there's a cliffhanger I am like "WHAT" and "WHYYYYYY." I... I have become what I feared... oh noes... Okay, so, disclaimer disclaimer I don't own Supernatural or Cas or Dean or Bela only the original plot in this fic. Also, virtual cupcakes for all reviewers; I adore you! Now, chapter 16, yeeesssss... I'm gonna go start chapter 17 now! Have I missed anything? I probably missed something. I hope this chapter is okay!_

* * *

Chapter 16

_Dean's perturbed face makes Castiel's chest ache. He looks out of breath and freaked out._

_"That's pretty nice timing, Cas."_

_Castiel wonders about the details of Dean's rest while the angel was waiting. It had to do with Zachariah - - he can feel his fingerprints all over Dean - - but what happened he doesn't know. "We had an appointment."_

_Dean leans in and puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder and Castiel's heart races. "Don't ever change." It takes a lot of effort for the angel not to break out a big goofy smile._

_"How did Zachariah find you?"_

_"Long story. Let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses from now on, okay?"_

_Dean pulls out his phone and Cas frowns. "What are you doing?" He wants Dean attention on him, he wants…_

_"Something I should have done in the first place."_

_Inexplicably, Castiel really wants to punch Sam._

* * *

February 12, 11:10 AM, Pontiac, Illinois

Claire can't stop smiling.

"I have a date," she says, trying the words out loud. Her first date, a date for the Valentine's Day dance. She says it again: "I have a date." She's so giddy she starts to skip.

She's on her way home from school - - her freshman year of high school - - and, as usual, a block away from home she slows. You have to go inside, Claire, she tells herself.

Claire's mom hasn't been the same since Jimmy left. The demon possession, watching her husband bleeding out, almost losing Claire, well… it's changed something in Amelia Novak. She's quieter. She cries a lot more. She's hesitant to let Claire even leave the house. Sometimes Amelia doesn't even get out of bed.

Claire's had to step up in a lot of ways as an adult; she's taking care of herself for the first time in addition to taking care of her mother. The last two years have been hard, but somehow Claire is getting by. None of it matters now though. Claire has a DATE. She can't help the little dance she does as she opens the door.

"Claire?"

Claire freezes. Usually her mother is in bed when she gets home. She checks her watch. Why is her mom up before noon? She tamps down on the panic she feels welling inside her.

"Mom? What are you doing up?" She closes the door slow behind her. Be calm, she tells herself.

Her mother frowns. "It's morning, of course I'm up. Question is, why are you home?"

Claire flinches. Granted, she's home a little early, but she'd wanted to celebrate the good news. It's not like she's skipping anything important. Just Social Sciences, that ridiculous amalgamation of basic world history and geography. She usually spent the time teaching herself Latin, something she can use in the future (not the future pictured, but since Castiel that future has changed). She's actually getting pretty good at it. She doesn't tell her mother this though.

"I get off early on Wednesday's, mom. It's part of my high school's block schedule. I stay late on Fridays." She does stay out late on Fridays, but she's not at school. Again, something she doesn't advertise to her mother.

Her mom frowns but doesn't challenge her. "Do you have any homework?" she asks.

Claire has no idea what this about. For a split second she wonders if her mom's possessed again, but remembers that she's laced the orange juice with holy water.

"Uh, not really," she lies. "I got it done during lunch."

"Oh really," her mothers says. She picks a piece of paper off the kitchen counter and Claire gets a bad feeling. "Your report card says differently, young lady."

Oh shit. "Uh." She searches for words. "About that."

She's got nothing.

"Your guidance councillor tells me you've had frequent absences, skipping classes and sometimes not showing up at all." True. "And your grades have fallen below a C- average."

"Not in Trig!" she protests. "Or Bio!" Which is true. Claire's smart with math like her dad was. He majored in math even though he sold ad space when he was alive. Claire's always wanted to follow his footsteps even though that's not in the cards now. Besides, Biology is useful. She's even more excited about Chemistry next year.

"That's not an excuse, Claire!" her mom yells. "You haven't been studying!"

"Yes I have!" Claire screams. Then she freezes. Oh God.

Her mom's eyes narrow. "Studying what, Claire?"

"Uh." Uh is her favorite word of the day, apparently. "Uhm, nothing?"

"Claire…"

Claire huffs out a breath. "Remember you asked," she says. She hefts her backpack onto the counter and starts pulling out books. They're all on Latin, the Occult, and angels. Her mom's back stiffens before she sweeps all the books into her arms.

"Wait, mom!" Claire protests. She makes a grab for the books but it's too late. Her mom's halfway outside and the backdoor slams behind her. Claire runs to the window and watches as her mom throws the books into the pool.

Claire clenches her fists. She loves her mother, she really does. But her mother doesn't get it. Amelia thinks she's protecting her, but really she's being selfish. Claire's not a little girl anymore. She needs to learn how to protect herself, because her mother's fallen down on the job.

She watches her mom watch as the books sink to the bottom. Goddamnit, she thinks. Damn her mom, damn her dad, and damn Castiel. Damn it all.

* * *

February 12, 11:10 AM, Montana

Dean takes the situation in fast. Eleven people, three women, eight men, ranging in ages from early twenties to fifty. He's being held by a man named Dennis who looks a little like Ash if Ash had ever cut his hair. The woman holding Bela is called Carli and she's only a little taller than Bela. The man with the grizzled voice is the boss, and he reminds Dean vaguely of Bobby, which brings a pang in his chest. The rest are unknown.

"What are Hunters doing here?" Dennis spits. Dean can tell immediately that Dennis is going to be a problem.

"We're not Hunters," Dean says.

"Far from it," Bela says.

"And the silver bullets, what're those for?" the Boss asks. "Decoration?" There's scattered laughter throughout the bar.

Bela raises an eyebrow. "A girl's not allowed to protect herself?" she asks. The man looks at Dean as if to ask what his excuse is.

"_This_ girl's not allowed to protect herself either?" Dean flips. You can literally hear crickets. "What, no laughs?" More silence. "Tough crowd," he mutters.

"I repeat," the Boss says. "What are Hunters doing in my bar?"

"There've been some murders in the area," Dean says. "And all leads come here."

"We haven't killed anyone," Carli snarls.

"I didn't say you did," Dean says slowly. "We're not accusing you of anything. Like we said, we're not Hunters."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"We're looking to acquire an artifact," Bela says, her voice aloof.

The Boss takes the conversation over again. "That 'artifact' bein'?"

"A fetish."

Dean snorts.

"It's of a wolf. With the description of the attacks in the area, we thought the two may be connected."

"A statue, eh? What do you want it for?"

Bela frowns and looks over at Dean. "Is he joking? I can't tell if he's joking."

"He's not joking," the Boss growls. "Let's say I know where this thing is."

Bela's ears perk up. "We're listening."

"I'm not."

"Shut up, Dean. Continue."

"If I knew where the thing was, what would you be willing to do for us?"

"We can pay a handsome pr - - "

"We don't need tha money. We need a favor. What all do you know about the murders?"

"They were tortured," Bela says. She doesn't sound like she cares but Dean can tell the idea of torture, of ANYONE getting tortured, bothers her.

"They were. And not by a monster. It was a Hunter."

Dean freezes. "A Hunter?" he croaks. "There's a Hunter in the area?" Shit, what if it's Sam, what if Bobby is here, Jesus if it's Cas - -

The Boss gives him a curious look, but continues. "Yeah, a nasty one, and he's got it in his idea that we're up to something suspicious."

"Have you given him any excuse to believe so?" Bela asks him.

"No!" Carli interrupts. "We haven't done anything! We have no idea how he even found us!"

"Do you… do you know what he looks like?" Dean forces out. "Name?"

Dennis shoves him. "Like you. You all look the same to us, Hunter."

"He's not a Hunter!" Bela yells at him, losing it when she see the man push Dean. "We're antiquities dealers!"

"Is that some kind of code for something?" another person asks from the back.

Bela makes a frustrated sound and stomps her foot. "NO!"

"What's the guy look like?" Dean ignores that he's hit the floor. He needs to know.

The Boss is looking at him very strangely. "Tall fella," he says, and Dean makes a distressed noise. "Red hair…" Dean lets out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God," he mutters.

"We know why he's after us," the Boss says. "Why's he after you?"

"You first." Bela still looks pissed but still manages to pull off looking demanding and above them.

The man just stares at him. He seems to come to a decision after a minute. "I'll level with you, kids. We're skin walkers."

Dean mentally sorts through his father's journal. Skin walkers, if he recalls, aren't much of a danger to humans, though his dad tried his damnedest to make it seem so. They can transform into animals, most commonly dogs, but don't require blood to survive like vampires, don't eat human hearts like werewolves, don't don't suck the life out of you like changelings. The worst thing about them is that their bites are infectious. Otherwise, it's all enhanced smell and strength and pack mentality. Plus, the allergy to silver. No better or worse than a human.

"And we haven't done anything at all," Carli says.

"We got that," Bela snaps.

"What're _you_ that you're so worried about the man in town?"

"We are antiquities dealers, like I said. Human."

"…Then why's your boyfriend down there hyperventilating?"

Bela shakes Carli off her and kneels next to Dean. "His family is in the Hunting business," she says, placing a comforting hand on Dean's back. "They weren't… happy that he turned away form the family calling. And he's not my boyfriend," she comes back.

The Boss grimaces. "Awkward family reunion?"

"They left me dead in a field."

The Boss snorts. "Okay. Well, you're a depressing couple. Back to the favor. I happen to have this 'fetish' - - "

Dean snorts again.

"And I'd be willing to trade it to you if you took care of our problem."

"Take care of, as in _take care of_?" Dean asks from the floor.

"Get rid of him. Don't care how ya do it. Lie to him, tell him we're gone, kill him, I don't care, just as long as he's gone."

"I know Hunters," Dean says. "He'll come back to check if you're gone."

"We have plans on leaving." He looks sad. "Had this place for years," the Boss says. "Be a shame leavin' it."

Yeah, Dean thinks. But you don't always get what you want.

Bela gets to her feet and pulls Dean with her. "Fetish - - shut up, Dean - - for a Hunter?" She holds out her hand. "Done."


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Oh. Dear. God. Sorry this took me so long to write! I've been exhausted the past week and sleeping either too little or too much. A coworker is taking time off and I'm pretty much covering her work in addition to mine and a few other projects that have gotten thrown at me. And Christmas decorations are out in retail stores, guys. Christmas decorations. If the store starts playing holiday music soon, I might have to flee the country. But anyways... Disclaimers, disclaimers, I don't own any of Supernatural except the original plot in this story, also I've been using bits and pieces of episode script from time to time in the flashbacks. Also: THANK YOU reviewers! And man, I wish O'Hara's was The Roadhouse too. I miss that bar and I miss Jo and Ellen. Sometimes I want to smack the writers for killing them off because man! Jo was awesome! ...I digress. So, this is chapter 17 and I haven't had much of a chance to go through it so it might be kind of... well I hope it doesn't suck. Good god I'm rambling and so tired and why am I so tired? I'm... gonna go sleep. After I write a little more of chapter 18. Yes. Yes, sleep. Sleeeeepzzzzzzzzz._

* * *

_Castiel can understand Dean's reticence at killing the boy Jesse, but the angel knows what needs to be done. Jesse is a danger to all those around him, and Castiel can't let him live._

_"What is going on in this town, it's what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry."_

_At their disbelieving looks, Castiel wants to shake them. He wants to grab hold of them and zap them back to Sioux Falls where they'll be safe., far far away from this child. He needs to kill the antichrist before it hurts De - - the Winchesters. Before it hurts the brothers, both of them. _

_He listens to Sam's half-baked plan and barely resists slapping him. Sam is making this, somehow, all about Sam. The younger Hunter thinks if he can somehow save this child, he can redeem himself, but that's not the way this works. Castiel wants to tell Sam to stop being selfish, but it won't make a difference._

_"…And I can't take that chance."_

_Castiel will take care of this himself._

* * *

February 12, 5 PM, Montana

"What the hell are we going to do?"

Bela spoons some more sugar into her tea. "Relax, Dean. It'll be fine."

"We're not actually going to kill him. …Right?" Bela takes a sip of her mug. "Bela, _right_?"

She rolls her eyes. "Of course not. I'm a negotiator. We'll work something out."

Dean gives her a bemused look. "Bels. This is a Hunter. They don't negotiate."

"You never know. Some of them are reasonable." Dean gives her a look. "Okay, they rarely are. But we can do what you do best."

"…Drink?"

"Lie."

"Oh, that. Yeah, that I can do."

They're back in the diner from earlier, and Dean's a jittery mess - - has been for hours. The Hunter may not be Sam, but it's a HUNTER, and they're all part of a network. Bela can see his brain whirring with all kinds of worst case scenarios and drags his coffee away from him. Dean makes a face and tries to grab it back, but Bela says, "No more caffeine, Dean. I'm cutting you off."

"Bels, I stopped drinking for you. I'm not giving up coffee." It's true, he hasn't had more than a handful of drinks since they've gotten topside.

Bela reaches across the table to pat his hand, but still keeps the mug. "Darling, don't worry. He won't recognize you."

"You don't know that. I'm pretty awesome. He might've heard of me."

"Dean."

"…I jump started the Apocalypse. He's GOT to have heard of me. Plus, the awesome thing."

"Yes, I'm sure he's got your countenance engraved on his personal effects and prays to the _Great Dean Winchester_ every night before he goes to bed, all because of the whole 'awesome thing.'"

"See? Totally true."

She sighs. "You'll be fine. You can stand behind me."

"Yeah, whatever. Real question is: how do we find the guy?"

"Maybe," a voice says from over Dean's shoulder, "he'll find you."

It takes Bela a moment to place the man who slides into the booth across from them (Bela and Dean are sitting on one side of the table in the back corner to watch the windows and entrance). The Hunter is tall, with pale skin and deep lines on his face, though he's clearly only in his twenties. He's clean shaven and almost handsome and Bela is sure she would remember him, but she's drawing a blank. Then she blinks.

It's the red hair and freckles that confirm it for her. "Hamish!" Bela says, clearly surprised. "I thought you died in Boston."

"No such luck," Hamish says. He looks anything but pleased to see her. "I'm alive." Bela hears a pistol cock and knows the man is holding a gun on her under the table. "And kicking."

"Bels, what did you do to this guy?" Dean asks. He manages to keep the exasperation out of his tone. Here he was thinking HIS past was going to get them in trouble.

"Well…"

"She left me in a den of vampires."

"They were _friendly_ vampires," she protests.

"FRIENDLY?" the man whisper-yells. "There is no such thing as a FRIENDLY vampire!"

"They let you go, didn't they?"

"I escaped."

Bela leans over to Dean. "They let him go," she says in an undertone, as if imparting some piece of valuable wisdom, and Dean snorts.

The Hunter pounds his fist on the table and Dean and Bela snap back to attention.

"Now ya know how I'm alive," Hamish says. "How 'bout you Bela? Ain't you supposed ta be in Hell?" He asks like he's laughing at her, and Dean growls. Bela takes it calmly though.

She inspects her nails. Unconcerned: "I had some help from Below."

Dean snorts at her ambiguity and Bela kicks him under the table. Hamish seems to misinterpret this by the narrowed eyes he shoots in Dean's direction.

"Consorting with demons, Bela?" he accuses. "Wouldn'ta thought even you would steep so low."

Bela almost chokes on a laugh bubbling up inside her. How did the man jump from Dean being a fellow escapee to a demon? Hunters, she swears.

"So, why're you here, Hell-bitch?" Hamish asks, and besides her Dean snarls again. Bela grabs his elbow and pulls him back into his seat before he's even halfway up.

"Calm, D - -" She cuts herself off and Dean freezes. They'd never discussed what his first name would be. How had they never discussed what his fake first name would be?

Hamish shoots a suspicious look between them. "Are you going to introduce me to your partner?"

"Steele," Bela says at the same time Dean says, "Barton." Bela settles on: "Barton Steele. He's my…"

"Business partner and body guard."

"Yes, business partner, body guard." As soon as Hamish turns to flag a waitress, Bela mouths, _'Barton? Really?'_ Dean shrugs. _ 'It's a real name, right? …Right?!._ Bela sighs and turns back to see Hamish order a coffee. When the waitress walks off, Hamish continues.

"Sure. He's your demon _business partner._ Right," Hamish says, obviously not believing that's the half of it. Dean squeezes her hand under the table and she calms. Dean's not angry. He's not judging her. In fact, she can feels waves of, 'The guy's a douche and I woulda left him to die too,' emanating from him. She coughs delicately to cover a laugh.

"Now, I'll ask ya again: what on God's green earth are ya doing here?"

"Enjoying the scenery. Taking in the sights. Doing a little business. The usual. How about you, Hamish?" she asks. "Doing a little business in the area yourself?"

"I've made a few friends, yeah." Hamish's grin makes Bela's stomach turn. Dear God, this guy is just as mad as he was in Boston.

"Would any of them happen to be skin walkers?"

"You always were quick, Bela. But what's it to you?"

"They something I want," she tells Hamish. "And they won't give it to me unless I assure that you've left the area…"

"I will."

"…with them still alive."

"Ah. Well, that I can't promise."

"Why are you even after them?" Dean asks. "Hell, how did you even find them? There's nothing in the papers or the news about freaky deaths besides what looks like your damage."

"I've been following 'em. Happened upon 'em by chance. Saw one shift while I was on a job a few towns over and I followed them here."

"So they haven't actually killed anyone?" Dean asks. "Why get involved when they aren't even causing trouble?"

Hamish shrugs. "They're monsters. They'll kill eventually."

Years ago, before his last decade in Hell, Dean would have agreed with him. Dean had a hatred for all things supernatural drilled into him since he was four years old by his dad. If it wasn't human, it was a monster, if it was a monster you killed it. Bela knows this, but she also knows that that hatred? It doesn't burn in Dean anymore. It's hard to hate after…

It's just hard to hate.

"Hamish, listen to me," Bela says. This isn't about the fetish anymore. Okay, it's a bit about the fetish, but now it's more that this Hunter is about to kill innocents, and while that doesn't sit well with Bela she knows it will sit even worse with Dean. Deans a Winchester and a do-gooder, a horrible self-sacrificing mix that Bela wishes she could smack out of him sometimes, but endears him to her all the same. "You don't need to kill these people - -"

"- - Monsters. And when did ya get so warm an' cuddly?"

"Since you're about to kill _people_ - -" She stresses the word. "- - that have done nothing wrong. Plus," she adds, because she has to, "if you kill them I'll never get what I came for. If you let them live, we could pay you."

Hamish snorts. "I don't need your money."

"Fifty thousand dollars, Hamish. That's not a sum to laugh about."

Hamish looks thoughtful. Bela holds her breath. "I'll think about it," he says, and gets up, discreetly pocketing his gun. "I'll give it a day or two and let you know."

His coffee arrives but Hamish is already walking away.

"Well."

"Yeah," Dean agrees.

"At least we won't have to kill him?"

"…You probably could have gotten him with twenty five."

"Darling, shut it," Bela says, patting his shoulder fondly. She does so because she's worried. There's something wrong with how quickly Hamish gave up. She has a bad feeling that this isn't over, and that it will cost much more than fifty thousand. With Hamish? This could end in blood or fire.

* * *

February 12, 8 PM, a highway near Pennsylvania

Sam's been driving non-stop for hours. He's going too fast, the windows are down, and he's got Dean's music blaring from the speakers. He'll be in Pennsylvania sometime tomorrow night.

Sam is not doing alright.

He can practically hear Dean, as if he were in the front seat with him, saying, "Sammy, if you're listening to my music instead of that girly crap you like? Well, I'm worried about you, man."

"Shut up, Dean," he mutters, and great, he thinks, now he's talking to himself.

_God, I really need a drink._

* * *

Adam's in Hell for approximately five minutes - - five fucking horrible minutes - - before he's zapped away. Where he ends up… Well, it's not Hell, but it's not Heaven either. It's an empty room with green walls.

"You're welcome, by the way."

Adam jumps. "Who is that?" he asks. "Zachariah?"

"Man, fuck that guy," the Voice says. "He's a dick. I'm your one and only savior. Call me L."

Adam is beyond being surprised by anything at this point; he simply accepts the situation and moves on. Anonymous, disembodied voice? Okay, he's on board.

"Alright, 'L'," Adam says only a little sarcastically. "Where am I? Because last I checked this 'angel of the Lord' called Zachariah yanked me out of Heaven and…" Adam gulps before finishing the sentence. "… and took me to what I'm pretty sure was Hell."

"It was," L confirms. "Sorry it took me so long to get you." Even though it was five minutes, five minutes in Hell is too long for any mortal soul.

Adam takes a few steps further into the room. "Where are we anyway?" he asks, non-subtely changing the subject.

"It's a safe room," L says. "It belongs to my brothers. It's not in use right now, so you should be safe. For the time being."

"That's reassuring."

"Hey, I'm not hearing much in the way of gratitude from you, kiddo. I just ripped myself from my vessel to drag you from the Pit. They had you under pretty tight guard."

"Why?"

"You're a Winchester, kid, so you better stop asking stupid questions like 'why'." L doesn't sound sorry for him; Adam gets the feeling the Voice has seen a lot worse.

"So why'd you save me if it nearly killed you?" Adam asked.

L is quiet for a few minutes, and Adam starts to think he's left. Until: "I owed your brother a favor."

Adam makes a face. "Brothers. Right." The ghouls had told him all about them.

"Hey, take it easy. The moron duo didn't even know you existed until you were dead, and when they heard about you they went charging half-cocked in your direction. Nearly got eaten by the things that got you."

Adam shudders. He doesn't like thinking about those last few hours.

"But anyway, I owed Dean a favor. And you? You're far too valuable a chess piece to leave lying on the board anyway. Angels and demons are gonna be looking for you, kid. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."

"So I don't have a say in this at all, do I?" Adam asks.

"Nope," L says cheerfully. "Not at all."


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's/Underhill's Note: Chapter 18! So, this chapter is a little shorter than the last one, but the next should be longer. 1) DISCLAAAAIMERRRRS I don't own anything but the original plot, 2) THANK YOU REVIEWERS! I adooore you! Reviews really help, not just motivation wise; it's good to know what you guys like and don't like about the story. 3) I don't know if there's a three. This week is slowly making me lose it... I kind of want cupcakes... Okay, I'm gonna go work some more on chapter 19! I hope you like it!_

* * *

Chapter 18

Feb 13, 12 PM

It's Saturday. Tomorrow is the dance and Claire is stuck in her room, grounded. It's ridiculous, she thinks. She's fourteen and more of an adult than her mother will ever be.

She's searching the web for books on Enochian, but so far they're all crap. References on magic only half right and nothing on how to read and speak it. That's in one window; in the other are tabs opened to different department stores and the dresses they carry. She has a dance to go to after all.

…So maybe she's not completely grown up.

She is suddenly distracted by a buzzing in her ears.

Claire tilts her head at an angle, looking like she's listening to something even though nothing's there. The rest of her is stiff, her eyes are staring faraway, and she's perfectly still as whispers overwhelm her. Strangely, she holds herself a little like Castiel sometimes now. If Dean could see her, he'd wonder if it's a vessel thing.

They're talking about one of the Winchesters, but it's not about Dean and it's not about Sam. It's a boy called Adam Milligan, nineteen and pre-med at University of Wisconsin, and dead for nearly a year. Curious, she thinks.

Claire won't lie and say she's especially fond of the Winchesters. Their family has caused a lot of problems, but then again, it's not their fault. It's in their blood like it is hers. There was nothing they could do to stop it.

She used to feel like they took her dad away from her, because they were THERE. The whole time they were with Castiel they were with her dad and they never tried to help him. But now, she kind of gets it. Sometimes you get put in an impossible situation.

Sam Winchester though, scares the crap out of her. She remembers Castiel looking out through her eyes and seeing Sam's face covered in blood and Jesus Christ, all she can think is the man is a monster. Back then she wished she knew how to contact Dean so she could warn him what was riding around with him. Then Sam started the Apocalypse and it didn't matter anymore.

She's heard a lot about them through Radio Angel. She also knows how pissed the angels are at them, and that actually endears them a little to her. When she heard that Dean had been thrown back in Hell she'd winced and she'd cheered when he'd escaped. They're still looking for him, but it seems like they're looking for backup vessels as well. Claire wonders what this means for her.

* * *

Feb 13, 2 PM, Connecticut

It turns out Cas's case is a two man job, so Sam calls Rufus - - against Bobby's better judgment.

_"Sam, he's a crotchety, crazy old bastard - - "_

_"Sounds familiar," Sam mutters over the phone._

_"Shut up, ya idjit. You've met him. He's gonna shoot you."_

_Sam sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Bobby, you already told me he's the only Hunter in the area you trust - - "_

_"Barely trust."_

_"Fine, _barely_ trust. I need help on this one. Besides, I uh, kind of already called him."_

_"Dammit, Sam!"_

Since Dean's death, Sam has taken his place as resident 'idjit'. It's really starting to annoy him (he never calls CAS an idiot…) Because it's bad enough dealing with Bobby all the time - - who is even more bad-tempered lately - - but now he's got to deal with Rufus. Within a minute of his arrival, Rufus has been bossing him around like he's Sam's father, and goddamnit, he thought this crap was over with. First dad, then Dean - - Sam stops. Gulps.

So Sam decides to take it, because he's fucked up enough relationships for a lifetime.

That's how he ends up with one of the couple's hearts in his hands and resisting handing it over to Rufus and asking him to be his Valentine. Lucky it was him though, because he's pretty sure Rufus wouldn't have identified the marks.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Wait a second." He takes a closer look. Yep. "These hearts both have identical marks. Check this out." He waits for Rufus to lean in to examine it. "It looks like some kind of letter. Oh no."

"What?" Rufus asks, not sounding patient.

"I think it's Enochian."

"Those angel scratches Bobby's been ranting about?"

"I think so. Give me a second." He hands the heart to Rufus who makes a gagging face before dropping it into the tupperware. Sam smiles and pulls his phone out and hits speed dial 3. Cas, it's Sam. Yeah, room 31-C, basement level, St. James medical center."

Cas appears and Sam twitches, more from Rufus' shouted swear than Cas's sudden appearance (he's gotten used to that). "I'm there now," the angel says.

"…Yeah, Cas, I get that."

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"Right." They both hang up.

"Is that a fucking angel?" Rufus asks, having slipped into a fighting stance. "Why the _fuck_ did you call an angel?" Rufus has heard a lot about angels lately, and run into one himself. Sam's not surprised he's unhappy to see another one.

"Rufus, calm down, this is Cas."

"And why the _hell_ does an angel have a cell phone?!"

Cas ignores him and walks over to the table. He leans and picks up the heart as Sam had before.

"You're right, Sam. These are angelic marks. I imagine you'll find similar marks on the other couples' hearts as well."

"So what are they? I mean, what do they mean?"

"It's a mark of union. The man and woman were intended to mate."

Rufus isn't looking fight or flight ready anymore, but he still sounds a little hysterical as he laughs. "Yeah, and who the hell put them there, genius?"

"Well, your people call them 'Cupid'."

_Cupid. Of course._

"Sam, I don't care how good a Hunter Bobby swears you are. I am never Hunting with your dumb ass again."

Cas continues ignoring him. "What human has mistaken for 'Cupid' is actually a lower order of angel. Technically, it's a cherub, third-class."

"Cherub?" Sam asks.

"Yes, they're all over the world. There are dozens of them."

"They don't look like the kids on the Hallmark cards, right?" God, Sam hopes not.

"No. In almost all respects, they resemble the higher orders of angels. They simply have a different… attitude."

Sam gets a bad, bad feeling. "Okay, anyway, what you're saying - - "

"What I'm saying is that a Cupid has gone rogue and we have to stop him - - before he kills again."

"…Naturally."

Rufus laughs. "I'll give you this, kid. At least your angel friend makes things interesting."

Unfortunately, Sam thinks, that is all too true.

Castiel is not happy to be here. He gave the case to Sam because he thought the Hunter was the most qualified. He did not intend to get dragged here himself. He's in the middle of a tome to help in his research on demons and how to reverse the process and he can't afford the distraction. But if an angel is involved in this…

"Where is the little winged bastard?" Rufus asks.

Castiel frowns. "Cupids do not have wings."

"Here I am!" Castiel watches with resignation as the Cupid picks Rufus up and hugs him.

"GET HIM OFF ME!"

"Hello, you!" Rufus is dropped and Castiel finds himself with an armful of cherub. He feels extremely uncomfortable. He is somehow satisfied when Sam, alarmed, is picked up and swung around.

"Is this a fight?!" Rufus yells at Castiel.

"This is… their handshake."

"I don't like it!"

"No one likes it."

When Rufus makes the cherub cry and Sam suggests he comfort it, Castiel draws the line. Only one person could have convinced him to take on a task so unpleasant, and Sam isn't him.

"You are on your own, Sam." Castiel checks his watch, something he's needed for about a while now; his internal clock was thrown off balance when he was cut off from 'Radio Angel'. "It was nice to meet you, Rufus." Castiel reappears in Bobby's kitchen and Bobby doesn't so much as blink.

"It go well?" the man asks.

Castiel nods and takes a seat across from Bobby, stiffening when he sees the book the Hunter is reading. It's the tome he's been studying.

"Cas. You're still reading these things." It's not a question, because the proof is there in front of him.

"Yes." Because why deny it?

"Boy… You know he's not coming back."

The angel shakes his head. He can't believe that, he won't. If he gives up on Dean, he'll be gone.

"I can bring him back."

"Kid, he's a demon now. I know ya feel responsible, but he's gone now."

Castiel snatches the book from Bobby's hands. Bobby doesn't understand; he doesn't just feel responsible (though he does, if he hadn't gotten trapped by Meg he would have _been_ there), he needs Dean. Dean means so much more. He's _everything_.

He needs to believe Dean can come back to him because he can't deal with Falling without Dean. He feels selfish for it, but he can't help it. If Dean were here, he could fix it with a few words, a joke, a slap on the back. Just like that, with a twinkle in his eye, Dean would fix everything.

As he storms back to his desk and the phone, he ignores the faint feeling tugging at his gut towards the west.

* * *

Dean's napping when he falls into the dream again.

_He's crying by the time it's over. Cas is nuzzling up against his cheek, like he's trying to soak up the tears. Dean thought he could pretend and block out the part of him that knew… but it's not Cas. Jesus, it's not Cas._

_He let this thing, he let, God…_

_"Was it good for you, Dean?" the demon asks._

_Dean lets out a broken wail while It strokes down his chest._

_"Was it everything you wanted?"_

_Shaking his head, trying to stop crying, can't stop crying…_

_"Good. That's good, Dean. I hope you enjoyed your reward. Because now, it's back to the basics."_

_And it starts all over again._


	19. Chapter 19

_Underhill/Author's Note: Chapter nineteeeeeeeen! As always, thank you reviewers (especially miss Nightlock :D )! Also: disclaimers disclaimers I own nothing Supernatural. Uh... other stuff, other stuff. I think this chapter is a little longer than usual (barely) which is why it took a little longer. Also, it took a little longer because yeah, still exhausted. Work, whyyyyyyyyyy, I just wanna write fics all day! So, I hope this doesn't suck and I hope you guys review, and thank you for reading! Now, I will go start on chapter 20! Yay!_

* * *

Feb 13, 5 PM, Montana

_"Dean."_

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts - -_

_"DEAN!"_

_It all freezes and the Voice is back. But this time it's not just a voice, it's a vague outline with solid, male hands. He feels like if he squinted just a little harder he'd be able to make him out, but when he tries it doesn't work._

_"Don't strain yourself, kid. I'm still working on the corporeal thing. Seriously, those sigils? Annoyingly impressive."_

_Dean snorts. He's off the slab and wandering the room. Now that it's all stopped, the edges of the memory-dream have blurred, fuzzy and grey at the corner of his eyes. He wonders how far the dreamscape goes…_

_"Freaking Winchesters," the Voice mutters. "You're like a toddler on a sugar rush, can't pay attention to anything. Your brother's not this much work, that's for sure."_

_Dean snaps to attention. "My brother? You're talking to Sam?" He tries not to panic, but does Sam know he's alive where he is that he's with Bela that - -_

_"No, he doesn't. But that's not the brother I'm talking about. We'll get to that later though."_

_Dean frowns. He really hopes the other brother is Adam, because he doesn't think he can deal with having another sibling running around out there._

_"Remember last time we spoke, I asked you to find me. It shouldn't be too hard, because I separated from my vessel fairly recently."_

_"Ugh. I keep forgetting you're an angel."_

_"Deal with it, kid. Now get your lady friend to start searching for two congruent events: shooting stars and the spontaneous growth of trees."_

_"So I'm looking for the vessel… what about you?"_

_"That's going to be the harder part. Focus on the vessel first. Though be careful with him - - "_

Dean gasps awake. He finds Bela kneeling beside him on the bed, watching him with a concerned look on her face.

"You've been having dreams," she says. Dean snorts because that's incredibly obvious. Bela rolls her eyes at him. "They're not the usual nightmares. You thought I didn't notice," she accuses.

"Uh."

"So. Tell me what's going on."

So Dean does. He watches as Bela listens with rapt attention; she doesn't look angry, just curious. When he finishes though, she swats him in the chest.

"Hey! Ow!"

"Idiot. You should have told me." Still, she sounds more annoyed than anything. "I don't like the idea of you dealing with this 'Voice' on your own."

"I was planning to when we got back to New York. Didn't want to ruin the vacation." That startles a laugh out of Bela.

"Winchester, what would I do without you?"

"Probably a whole lot better than you are now."

"Tut tut. No self-depreciation on my watch. We'll deal with the dreams when we get home. Now, up and at 'em. We have a half-unhinged Hunter to stalk."

Dean groans. He hates stake outs. "You know, I changed my mind; let's just kill him."

"If only, darling, if only."

Last night, after Hamish had left the diner, they'd scouted out the local motels until they found the one he was staying at, fortunately or unfortunately the one on the other side of town. They'd followed him at a distance, watched as he went from one bar to another before finally settling outside O'Hara's. He spent the night outside, watching the comings and goings of the occupants, before finally retiring back to his room. At which point, exhausted, Dean and Bela had gone back to their own room for a nap. They would need it for the night ahead. They need to make sure Hamish doesn't do anything rash while he makes up his mind.

At around 8 PM, Hamish leaves his room again, and drives straight for O'Hara's. They watch from across the street as he parks, roots through his trunk, and comes out with a duffle on one arm and a sawed-off in his hands.

"Goddamnit," Dean swears. Now that he's not a Hunter himself, he can admit what predictable pains in the asses they are. Because to them, a monster is a monster is a monster. He kicks open his own door and Bela follows him out.

They hear a crash that is obviously Hamish kicking in the door. They exchange looks before drawing their weapons and dashing after him. They run through the door just as they hear a female voice scream.

Dean takes in the scene in the space of a heartbeat, old Hunter's reflexes honed by the four years he was on the run in the pit. A woman with brown curls is bleeding out on the floor. Dennis has a bullet in the gut and isn't far behind her. Hamish is facing the Boss with a knife to Carli's throat. At their footsteps he whirls, Carli forced to follow him.

"Bela. And… whatever your name is."

"Barton. Seriously, that is not a hard name to remember."

"Shut up." Hamish draws his gun and presses the knife against Carli's throat closer.

"Shutting up," Dean says, holding his hands out wide, letting his gun go slack in his hand.

"Hamish," Bela growls. Her gun, unlike Dean's, is still trained straight on Hamish.

"Shoulda known you'd follow me."

"And I should have known you would not listen. We all make errors in judgement."

The Boss looks between them. "I take it you two know each other."

"She left me for dead!" Hamish yells again.

Bela shrugs. "He deserved it."

The rest of the skin walkers are shifting nervously, full of energy and the instinct to hunt, attack, kill, but holding back for Carli. How Hamish thinks he'll get out of this, Dean doesn't know.

"I swear to God, I'll kill all'a you. You," he says, pointing at Carli. "And you." He gestures his head at the Boss. "But starting with you," he says, finishing on Dean. "I'm going to kill you first, demon, and make her watch." His finger is on the trigger and Dean eyes widen. He wouldn't…

Carli stomps on his instep and Hamish yowls, giving her a chance to slip out of his grasp. Bela aims.

She shoots.

Hamish goes down.

The room is quiet as Bela lowers her small pistol, barrel still smoking.

"No," she says. "I don't think you will. Dean, you alright?"

"Peachy." He's already checking the pulse on Dennis, shaking his head when the Boss gives him a questioning look. The girl, he knows, is already gone.

This, he thinks, could have been him a year ago. It could be him that shot Dennis, him lying dead where Hamish is lying. This stupid war? It used to be his.

Thank God it's not anymore.

He looks over at Bela, still standing, face impassive, as she turns to the Boss.

"Now," she says, gun lowering. "About payment."

Dean, in spite of himself, starts to laugh.

Carli's getting her neck bandaged but still manages to say, "Are they crazy? Are they seriously crazy?"

The Boss hmms in neither agreement or disagreement as he circles the bar and kneels down behind it; they can hear the tick of a safe as he turns the wheel. Click-clank. A rustling, and the safe door slamming shut.

"Catch," he says, tossing the small statuette at Bela. She snags the article one-handed. It's about the size of two-closed fists, shaped like a female wolf reared back on her hind legs. Bela smiles.

"Lupa," she says. "It's Roman."

The Boss shrugs. "Was my grandfather's, and his father's and so on and so on. Family relic. Never did us much good. Thought about selling it at one point, but didn't know how to go about it."

"And you're willing to just _give_ it to us now?" Dean asks. Bela shoots him a glare that clearly states, 'Shut up, Dean.'

"I figure I did sell it; I hired you for a job and you delivered on the payment. Besides, my grandfather, he was a sunofabitch if there ever was one."

"I can respect that," Dean says. He walks forward to shake the Boss's hand, and to his surprise, the skin walker takes it.

"Thought you might," the Boss says.

Bela scoffs. "I hate to interrupt this beautiful little moment here, but we should be leaving." She holds out her hand as well, but not to shake. "In case you come across any other rarities, give us a call. We'll cut you in for a good sum." Bela is holding out a stiff, white business card. Seeing it, Dean snorts, because _of course_ she had business cards made.

The Boss looks at them, then down at the card, then back up them. He shakes his head and grins wide. "For an antiquities dealer and a demon body guard - -"

Dean sighs and Bela chokes but neither of them correct him, because, really, why bother?

" - - You're alright. Maybe we will call."

Bela gives him a curt nod before looping her arm through Dean's. Only once they're outside and alone again, Dean finally feels at ease.

They clamber into the car.

"Why," Bela asks, "does everyone find it so easy to believe you're a demon. You don't look or cary yourself even remotely like a demon." And they, better than most, would know.

"What? I could be a demon." He winks at her. "A _sexy_ demon. Ow, ow! No hitting, no hitting!"

Bela revs the engine. "Stop being a baby, Winchester. Now, let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

Feb 13, 8 PM, Connecticut

Blood.

Not just any blood, demon blood, coursing through his veins and he can feel it feel it feel it as it works and he's strong again, powerful.

He doesn't remember getting to the diner. Just a haze of red and a pounding in his ears before he's through the doors and there, there's Famine.

He almost misses him because there's blood blood blood all around him so many demons but Famine, Famine's important, because Rufus is slamming beer after beer at the counter halfway to drinking himself to death. And Famine? Famine smells good.

Sending Rufus in alone was stupid because he's weak not like Sam never like Sam because God the blood he needs to do something, needs to get rid of some of this power brimming under his skin.

"I see you got the snack I sent you."

"You sent?" Snack, barely a snack, just scratching the surface…

"Don't worry. Your'e not like everyone else. You'll never - - " Blah blah blah blah blah, so much talking monsters are always talking too much not enough action.

" - - Have at them!"

No objections Dean wouldn't like it but so much blood and Dean's not here.

"Please, be my guest."

Need the blood so much blood too much not enough. He starts to pull them from their hosts - -

Dean wouldn't want it, got to resist it, don't need it…

"No."

"Well… fine. If you don't want them… then I'll have them."

He ate them Famine ate them all but that's good because - -

"I'm a Horseman, Sam. Your power doesn't work on me."

Sam smirks. "You're right. But it will work on them." Sam tears into him, pulls him apart.

The buzzing fades. The burning in his veins stop. At the counter Rufus drops his beer.

"'Bout time, boy," he slurs, before landing face down on the counter. Sam sighs.

Rufus will live, but it was a close call.

Hauling the older Hunter to his feet, he drags him back outside towards the car, pointedly ignoring the dead demons on the floor.

* * *

Feb 13, 8 PM, Montana

Cas is circling a town in Montana when the pull in his gut stops.

Ever since helping Sam and Rufus in Massachusetts, he'd felt a hunger, but he had no idea for what. It was a steady pull to the west, towards Montana.

But now it's stopped, and he's sitting on the pavement outside of an empty bar, exhausted beyond all belief. He's tired. He wants to sleep. He needs to return to Bobby's, so he stretches his wings - -

Nothing happens.

Confusion is his first reaction, followed by panic. Has his Grace finally failed? Has he finally Fallen without evening knowing it? He reaches inward, feels for the tiny spark that should be there - - and he finds it intact. He breathes a sigh of relief. It's fainter, it's flickering, but the spark is still there.

He just needs sleep. A solid six hours, maybe more, and he'll be able to fly again. But he needs to get back to Bobby's first, where it's safe and warded and no angel can find him. He's going to have to drive, and to do that he needs to steal a car. Cas feels a slight pang in his heart at that, because Dean? Dean would be infinitely pleased that an angel of the Lord is carjacking.

Calling Sam or Bobby is not an option, Cas thinks as he starts checking vehicles. He doesn't want them to know the extent of his failing powers. It's not exactly shame that stops him - - though that's a factor - - it's fear. If he's no longer an angel, if his powers fail, he will no longer be useful. Will they bother keeping him then? He knows they wouldn't kick him out, but they might grow to resent his uselessness, because while he knew how to fight as an angel, he cannot shoot, or throw a true punch, or anything Hunters really need to know. He can answer phones and do research and occasionally find cases, but is that enough?

A door opens, unlocked. The keys are in the ignition, almost like the owner is inviting someone to take it. In fact, there's a lot of abandoned vehicles around, like a lot of people have taken off all at once and in a hurry. Cas frowns but shrugs the confusion off. He needs the car, end of story.

Now, he wonders, which pedal means 'Go' again?

* * *

Feb 13, 9 PM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"Yeah, Sam, I gotcha. Cas? Naw, haven't heard from him. Said he was going out for some more books. Yeah, he's still lookin', for all the good it's doing him. Rufus is all right? And you've got the ring? Good, head home, we'll figure out our next move."

Bobby hangs up the phone and frowns. He thought for sure that Cas would have gone to Sam when he called, but it turns out the angel was distracted. Maybe he's sleeping, Bobby thinks, those more common naps that Cas thinks they don't know about. Stupid idjit of an angel.

He walks through the house, peering into different rooms, looking for the boy, but nothing. Where the hell did he go? He goes back to the phone bank and dials Cas's cell.

"Cas, where are ya? Call me back," he growls and hangs up. "Dammit, I need another drink." Cas might be older than the earth, but hell if that boy isn't hell to raise.

* * *

Zachariah is raging.

Adam Milligan, gone in five minutes, and it's Zachariah's ass on the line.

There's only one thing that could drag Adam out of Hell, and that's an angel. There is a traitor in the ranks, and Zachariah will raise both Heaven and Hell to find him if he has to.

He will find Adam Milligan, and he will find the rebel angel, and he will destroy the latter and make the former wish he'd gone down with him.

* * *

"Oooh, Zach knows you're missing."

"How do you know?" Adam asks. He shouldn't bother because L rarely answers anything, but it's not like he's got anything better to do.

"He's throwing the kind of hissy fit I haven't seen since my brother Lucifer - - and let me tell you, he cried about EVERYTHING. 'I want to be angel of Saturday, I think the grass should be greener, why do giraffes have to be so TALL?' Ugh."

"I thought he was your older brother?"

"He is. Never really felt like it though."

"So what does this mean now?" Adam asks. "Are we in danger?"

"We're always in danger, kid. But yeah, we're probably going to have to move. I'm going to have to find another safe house for you. So sit tight; I'll be back as soon as I can."

L disappears and Adam kicks the wall. He wants to ACT, to DO something. Sitting here helpless is not what he's used to. It never occurs to him that that trait? It's probably from the Winchester side.


	20. Chapter 20

_Author/Underhill's Note: Chapter 20! Okay, so this one's up a little fast; I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. This one Cas is doing a little better, I think (I hate it when Cas is sad too! It hurts making him miserable, but if Dean were gone, I think he would be devastated). So, disclaimers disclaimers, I own nothing Supernatural except the original plot in this story, disclaimers disclaimers. And thank you once again, reviewers, you rule : ) Reviews make me want to update quicker; I always check my email to see if there are any and when there are I am like, ecstatic, which is probably sad, but oh well! I am slightly less exhausted than usual which is AWESOME, though I don't expect the trend to stick, but fingers crossed. Anyways, I'll stop rambling and go start chapter 21! Yaaaaay! I hope you like this one! _

Chapter 20

Feb 14th, 7: 50 AM, Pontiac, Illinois

It's not the first time Claire's snuck out her window. The first time she'd sprained her ankle, which was hard to explain to her mother when she found her injured in bed the next morning. Claire asserted it must have "happened in my sleep" and "I guess I just didn't notice." She's better at navigating the roof now, and at swinging herself down from the drainpipe. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, she hasn't been injured again. This time she is extra careful though, because it would look odd to show up to the school dance sporting big bruises.

She lands in a crouch on extra light feet. She creeps to the side yard and grabs her bike and zips up her jacket. It'll take maybe thirty minutes to bike downtown, and ten minutes from there to get to the mall to look at dresses. She figures she can get breakfast on the way and maybe some coffee, because she hasn't been sleeping well lately. She hasn't been for a while, but it's been worse the last few nights; the buzzing in her is getting louder and more ubiquitous.

She kicks off and starts pedaling. If she gets back by noon she should beat her mom out of bed, so she'll have some time to shop before Josh picks her up at six. She smiles as the wind hits her. Things might suck in most regards, but at the moment, things are looking up.

* * *

7:35 PM

Claire wishes she'd never come to this damn dance.

Her head aches, she's wearing the wrong kind of shoes, and Josh, now that she's talking to him about something other than the current topic in History class, she's finding that he's kind of a tool.

She's hiding in the bathroom, trying desperately to make the buzzing stop. She hits the palm of her hand against her ear. She splashes water on her face. She eventually ends up in one of the stalls, head between her knees and fighting nausea.

"Dances are stupid," she mutters to herself.

A group of girls comes tittering into the bathroom and Claire decides she can't avoid Josh forever. She stands, pushes open the stall door, and passes her classmates. Josh waves at her from across the dance floor, and starts heading her way. Claire raises her hand to wave in return - -

_CRSHHHZZZHSSSSCRKK_

Claire's hands shoot to the sides of her head - - it's exploding, everything is exploding! White sound, radio static SCREAMING - -

_CRSHISSSSSSCRKSSHHH_

Someone's holding her by the elbow, trying to keep her up, but she's collapsed to her knees. Does no one else here the NOISE?

Hands in front of her face, voices trying to break through the static - -

Blackness.

* * *

_In Hell, there is little else to do but run, and talk. Bela and Dean do plenty of both, if only to keep from going mad._

_"Lillith was human once upon a time," Bela explains, and Dean blinks in response. He has no words, because that is such a blatantly stupid statement that it can't be true. Lillith never had a shred of humanity in her; she was a monster._

_"I know what you're thinking, but it's true. She was created at the same time as Adam."_

_"I thought that was Eve."_

_"That's the story, and it's half true. Eve was created after Adam, from one of his ribs. But before her? Lillith and Adam were created, at the same time, and separately, equal."_

_Dean soaks that in. "So what happened?"_

_"No one's exactly sure. But Lucifer took her in when she was expelled from Eden, and he… twisted her."_

_"So you're saying she was a sweet lady up until the divorce made her bitter?"_

_"God no. I'm sure she was a bitch even then."_

_"That's more like it," he says, relaxing his head against Bela's shoulder. He hmms as she runs a hand through his hair. His eyes slip closed._

_"You sleep, Winchester," she says softly. It's only been a year since she found him, and he's still barely functional. She's trying to take care of him best as possible, but she's frightened, for the first time for someone other than herself._

_"I'll look after you."_

* * *

Feb 16, 11:04 AM

"Done and _done_!" Bela says, clicking the mouse with a flourish. "Message sent. We'll get a response in a few days."

"A response from who?" Dean asks distractedly; he's still working on the Lupa Fetish paperwork, and goddamn is he glad he actually went to some of his math classes in high school, because otherwise this would be kicking his ass.

"My IT person," she responds. "I asked her to look into the whole Voice matter. It should be a few days; she's rather brilliant."

"Better than Sam?"

Bela shoots him a scathing look. "Sam," she says, "is an amateur. Liselle is a _professional_."

"Okay, okay! Sam sucks, Liselle rules, I get it. No objections here."

"Now, the more pressing issue: what could get past our warding and how can we correct for it?"

"Why do I get the feeling this is going to involve more Enochian carved on me?" he asks, wincing.

"Because it probably will." She crosses the room to his desk and pats him on the shoulder. "Buck up, Winchester. If nothing else, this venture should prove interesting."

"Interesting or _painful_?" He keeps on crunching numbers though, balancing the books. Is it wrong, he thinks to himself, that he might actually be starting to enjoy this?

Bela looks from him to the paperwork knowingly.

Probably, he concludes.

* * *

Feb 18, 11 PM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Sam's been out of the panic room all day, but he's sleeping there one last night just in case. Castiel is keeping watch in the kitchen, one eye on his book and the other on the basement stairs.

Rufus left as soon as the doctor gave him the all clear. Castiel makes him nervous, and the angel is too tired to reassure him.

He sighs. The book in front of him, the incantations, they're nonsense; and it was so promising at first.

There's a fluttering behind him.

"Castiel."

Castiel sits stock still at the phone banks. Bobby is asleep upstairs, and Sam is sleeping it off one final night in the panic room (just in case) so no one else should be in the house. And that voice is familiar. But it can't be.

"Castiel."

Breathing out slowly, Castiel turns his head.

It is. "Balthazar," he acknowledges. Balthazar is in a new vessel from the one he last saw him in, many thousands of years ago. This one is male, blond, taller than the last. He speaks with an accent that is not from this continent. He stands with the same rigidity that is common to their species, a posture that Castiel is slowly losing. "What are you doing here? You are still assigned to the West Winds, are you not?"

Balthazar inclines his head. "Yes, indeed. But I find myself in need of answers. Heaven is in upheaval Castiel. Some say it is because of you."

"You're not here on orders, are you?" Cas suddenly realizes. His eyes widen in bafflement. Balthazar was always a little odd and sideways thinking, but to blatantly disobey orders? He would never. But then again, neither would Anna, and neither would Cas, but look where they're all at now. "Do they even know you're here?"

Balthazar looks contrite. "They do not."

"Then what are you DOING here?" Cas asks.

"Do you have the boy Adam?"

"Adam?"

"Adam Milligan, the son of John Winchester."

"No," Cas says slowly. "Adam Milligan is dead. I do not have the… power to raise a man." The 'anymore' lies unspoken between them. "Why? Has he been risen?"

Balthazar nods. "And Zachariah is tearing apart Heaven, Hell, and Earth to find him. I do not know why." The angel pauses. "None of us know why."

Castiel does know (or can at least make a good guess) though he is hesitant to tell his brother. Trusting another angel at this juncture seems like a inadvisable idea.

"Take us to another location, brother," he says, and in an instant Cas is swept away to a beach that must be halfway across the world, considering it's daytime. The skies are clear and the water is unbelievably blue, and Cas marvels once again at his father's creation. His father, he thinks darkly, and looks back at Balthazar. "Do you really wish to know what is going on? You won't like it, and you likely won't believe me."

Balthazar seems to waver, but: "Yes. I need to know what is going on at Home, regardless of consequences."

Castiel sighs. "Then let me explain it to you."

* * *

Feb 19th, 6:24 AM, Pontiac, Illinois

Claire wakes up with a killer headache and a weight on her chest. It turns out to be her mother's hand gripping tightly to hers.

_I'm in a hospital_, she realizes.

She stills when her mother starts to stir. She doesn't want to deal with her right now; she needs to figure some things out first.

Something has happened in Heaven. She's not sure what, but it has to do with Adam and the fact that he's escaped.

From what it sounds like, there's a 'traitor' in the ranks, and this rumor that's not a rumor is throwing Heaven into chaos. No angel knows who to trust anymore. They don't know who to believe or who to follow orders from.

Claire takes perverse pleasure in this. Angels have ruined her life, she's glad someone is ruining theirs.

* * *

When Castiel finishes, Balthazar's quiet for several long minutes. They've been talking for hours, and Castiel understands his silence. When he realized the full extent of Heaven's betrayal, he'd needed some time to process it too; he's still processing. When Balthazar does recover the faculties of speech, his response is pretty much what Cas expected.

"I don't believe you."

"I thought you wouldn't," Cas says. "Go Home, brother. Ask what our older brothers have been doing the past year and a half. Ask where Anna disappeared to, and why they are searching so hard for Adam Milligan."

"I will," Balthazar says defiantly, as if daring Cas to speak more against his Home. "I will ask and you will see. I will return." He leaves and Castiel is left alone on a beach, presumably those thousands of miles from Sioux Falls.

"Wonderful," he says sarcastically. The flight home is going to leave him exhausted for days.

* * *

Feb 19, 10:11 AM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"Is that _Cas_ crashed out upstairs?" Sam asks Bobby, pushing into the kitchen. He goes to the counter (only slightly dirty since Cas took over cleaning duties), and pours himself a cup of coffee. "Want one?" he asks. Bobby shakes his head and continues reading the paper. He circles a suspicious article and turns the page.

"Yep. Been sleepin' for hours, the idjit. Wonder what he did this time."

"I thought Cas didn't sleep."

Bobby's paper droops. "You are kidding me, boy." At Sam's confused look, he puts the paper down altogether. "You cannot be fool enough not to have noticed that our angel up there's falling fast."

"Wait, what?" Sam looks so confused that Bobby decides to take pity on him.

"He sleeps. I've seen him eat a piece of toast once or twice, though I don't think he noticed it hisself. He's halfway to being human, Sam."

"I… I didn't realize it had gotten that bad."

"Well, that's obvious," Bobby scoffs. "He doesn't want us to. I think he thinks we'll kick him to the curb or something when he 'stops being useful'." He air quotes the last bit and Sam laughs.

"Not useful? Cas?"

"Never said he was smart. He runs the place a damn bit smoother than I did, and he doesn't even know it. Practically runs the phones now; smacked my hand when I tried to answer the FBI line." He shakes his head. "Don't know how to convince him, though. Won't listen to a word I say."

Sam sits down heavily. He knows Cas has been taking Dean's death hard, harder than either Bobby or him (though he's loathe to admit it), and that something's broken in the angel. But he didn't know Cas was _falling_, as in angel mojo all dried up.

"Doesn't he trust us anymore?"

Bobby shakes his head at Sam's stupidity. "Sam, I don't know if that boy ever trusted us. Only person he did trust is burnin' in the Pit. I think he's only stickin' around because he has no idea where else to go, or what else to do."


	21. Chapter 21

_Author/Underhill's Note: CHAPTER 21, WHUT. I literally just finished this. But yes... Uh. Sorry, I'm a little weird after I take naps and I took like a thirty minute nap and now I'm weird omg what. Okay, as usual: disclaimers DISCLAAAIMEEEEERS; I don't own anything Supernatural except the original plot in this story (and even then, doesn't it REALLY belong to Dean and Cas? SERIOUSLY STOP ME). Also: reviewers, if I could give you pie, somehow mail it without it like, dying on the way, I would TOTALLY do so. You are awesome (miss Nightlock, Fulminata!)! Now, there's always this third thing I forget about, and I swear someday I will remember what it is... ANYWAY. I hope you enjoy this chapter and stuff, and please review, peoples! I'll be all happy and smiley and I might do a little dance (no promises who am I kidding there will be a dance)._

* * *

Feb 23, Pontiac, Illinois

Claire's mother wheeled her out of the hospital two days after she woke up. She's told she was out for four and a half days. The doctors can't explain it either. She wasn't in a coma, there was no brain damage - - she passed out at the dance and went to sleep, and wouldn't wake up.

No one visited her at the hospital, but she did get flowers. Some from Josh, some from her best friend (at least she used to be before Claire started putting distance between them) Andrea, and some unlabeled, probably from a teacher or something.

She's at home now, on the couch, TV switched to Dr. Sexy. _This show is TERRIBLE,_ Claire thinks.

She turns the volume up a notch.

She hears her mom bang around upstairs and winces. Amelia Novak has been doing worse than usual the last few days, and Claire suspects why. The empty liquor bottles in the recycling bin tell a pretty damning story.

Claire throws her slippered feet off the couch and onto the floor. She walks to the base of the stairs and calls out gently, "Mom?" Another bang, and Claire decides to investigate further. She starts padding slowly up the steps.

When she reaches the top, she sees her mother rifling through the hall closet, a big cardboard box open next to her.

"Mom. What are you doing?"

Amelia Novak doesn't answer right away. She's throwing linens and towels into the box and Claire already knows where this is heading.

"We're leaving," her mother says. "I saw… We're not staying here. I don't know why we didn't leave in the first place. It's not safe here, there's… I…"

Claire doesn't respond to that. Instead, she kneels next to her mother and starts folding sheets. Her mother sends her a grateful look and Claire gives her a faint smile.

Whatever her mother saw has to be bad, so she'll go.

"I'll pack up the kitchen next," her mother says, "you get your room. I want to be on the road by nightfall."

Jesus, _really_ bad. Claire kicks off her slippers and quickens her pace. She'll have to travel light.

* * *

Feb 23, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"Sam. You need to return to Sioux Falls."

That's the first thing Sam hears when he picks up the phone. "What? Why?"

"Bobby's wife. She's… back."

"…What?"

"Death has passed through Sioux Falls, and the dead are rising. Among them is Bobby's wife. He refuses to listen to reason. She must be destroyed."

"…What?" When he'd picked up the phone, this was not the conversation he'd been expecting. He thought maybe Cas or Bobby had a case, not that Cas and Bobby ARE the case.

"Death has passed through Sio - - "

"Dammit, Cas, I heard you! You don't need to repeat it."

"You did not appear to understand." Cas's voice comes staticky through the line..

"Cas, I swear… Just. Nevermind. Tell me exactly what happened."

* * *

Feb 25

Bobby won't look at anyone after. He'll forgive them, but it will take some time. Castiel wonders if he should vacate the house for a few weeks, but Bobby tells him to stay. Sam and Rufus are a different story. Bobby tells Sam to get out, and Rufus that "we're even now," before wheeling his chair so his back's to them. Rufus's face is stunned, but he appears to take it at face value.

Sam had called Rufus once Cas had explained what was going on. They met halfway towards Bobby's, then proceeded together. Now Bobby's wife is dead, and there's still a town-wide mess to take care of.

Bobby gave them the list he made of families whose loved ones rose, and they use it to go from house to house in the middle of the night, silently dispatching zombies, doing what needs to be done. More than a few people wake up, and Sam has to explain (which usually ends with locking them in a closet) why they're doing what they're doing. By morning, they're finished.

Sam knows he's done the right thing. Doesn't mean he feels good about it.

* * *

Time: Irrelevant, The Green Room

He's been in the room for days with no word from L. There's nothing to occupy himself with. Sure, he's found the room supplies him with just about anything he wants, except a goddamn exit, but he can only play solitaire so many times. He tried studying, but that seemed pointless. TV is a bust; he can't get a signal. Other than that, he doesn't know what to do. His entire life was centered around school and working his stupid job at the pizza parlor. He'd never had time to come up with extracurriculars.

And for some reason, the room only serves bacon cheeseburgers and cheap beer.

He's gently hitting his head against the wall when he hears L again.

"You're going to give yourself a concussion, kid."

"No, I'm not," he says, continuing to beat his head. "Not hitting it hard enough."

"Well, you can stop. I've got news."

"You've got something other than hamburgers? That would be good news."

L laughs. "No, I'm springing you." Adam perks up. "Thought that might make you happy."

"Where are we heading?" Adam asks, maybe too eagerly but goddamn does he need to get out of here.

"_You're_ heading for Buffalo. Small storage space. Used to be your dad's."

"You're not coming with me?" Adam feels a spike of panic.

"What?" he croaks.

"I can't come with you." At Adam's gaping expression, he says, "I'm not corporeal, idiot. I can't walk around until your equally idiotic brother finds my vessel."

Adam's known for a while that L is an angel; it wasn't hard to guess. He's not sure how he feels about it, but he owes L big, so he's not overanalyzing it.

"You've been talking to my brother?" He's still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he has a brother, even though the ghouls had fun rubbing that in.

"Yes. He's pretty annoying. Can't pay attention AT ALL, always wandering off in dreamland."

"Dreamla - - you know what, I'm not going to ask. Why are you having him find your vessel? Why can't you get it?"

"Uh. That's." Adam has a feeling that whatever reason L's not telling is pretty embarrassing. "Anyways!" Oh yeah, definitely embarrassing. "He's good at that kind of thing. You know, tracking stuff down, killing things, though he's kind of dropped the ball on that last one lately."

"So what's in this storage place?" Adam asks. "Why there?"

"It's safe, for one. Your dad was a paranoid bastard, and he warded that place against people, demons, all kinds of monsters except angels, and that's only because he didn't know about them. Also, you're going to need supplies. You can't stay in the space for long."

"Supplies? What's in it?"

"Oh, you'll see. Your dad is FULL of surprises. After you get what you need, you'll have to get out of town."

"Where?"

"Pick a direction. It doesn't matter. I don't know where your oldest brother is, and I'm not sending you to other one. He's in the middle of too much crap for you to be safe with. I'll be looking for Dean. When I find him, I'll send you his way. Until then, keep on the move."

"For how long?" Adam asks, though he has a feeling he knows the answer already.

"Until I find him. Can't give you a timeframe, so, find some way to occupy yourself. Uh, an incognito way to occupy yourself. Now, are you ready?"

Fuck, no. "Fuck, no."

L laughs. "Good answer. See you later, kid."

He feels a vague nausea in his stomach as he's swept from the Green Room. Right before he lands, he hears, "And remember, keep moving!"

* * *

****

Feb 28, outside of Buffalo, New York

He lands right on his face. Hard. He gets the feeling that the landing could have been gentler, but L's truly an asshole. An asshole he owes his life to, but still. Asshole.

He pushes himself up to his feet and stumbles about in the dark a bit till he finds a light. It's still fairly dark, even after he turns it on. The place is crowded, full to the brim with random crap interspersed with creepy objects - - skulls, bottles full of dubious liquid, even a trail of two bloody footsteps on the ground.

Jesus, this is - - was - - his father's?

But L landed him for a reason; so he needs to get out of here. First though, L said he could find what he needed here. He starts searching around.

He skips past suspicious looking bottles and musty books, picks up a sawed-off shotgun instead.

Goes into a room full of boxes, one's missing, but he's not focused on that, because...

Holy hell, is that a wall of GUNS? He steps closer and starts looking them over, one by one. Guns, knives, some… okay, he has no idea what that one is...

And… are those land mines?!

He shakes that off and grabs one of the knives, figuring on it being useful, and a small handgun, one he actually knows how to use. His uncle - - shit, should he call his uncle? - - took him to a shooting range once, though Adam hadn't taken it very seriously. He kind of wishes he had now.

He grabs a box of shotgun shells next, a couple of clips for the handgun, and a sheath for the knife, and stuffs them into a small, empty duffle lying forgotten to the side. He doesn't touch the land mines.

Then he sees the box. It's metal, about the size of two shoeboxes and a little deeper, and it's full of an assortment of papers and photos. He picks up the stack of photos on the top.

There's one of a small boy, maybe five or six, holding a baby, and another of the same boys but older, the eldest in his late teens and the younger (but already taller one) in his early. John has an arm around each other them, and the younger - - Sam? - - doesn't look happy about. He has a sullen, sulky face, that immediately makes Adam take a dislike to him. The older - - Dean, probably - - has a solemn, serious look. John is smiling widely in contrast, and Adam feels another surge of anger at the man.

Another is of Dean, older still, holding and aiming a rifle, and for the first time Adam feels empathy for his brother. He'd felt jealous at first; they grew up with a father and he hadn't. But this? He gets the feeling that growing up with John Winchester was worse than growing up without him. He throws the photos in his duffle.

Lastly he digs up some old clothes, long in the legs but they still fit. He takes a few shirts and pants and looks around. Is there anything else he needs? Should he be looking at some of the more exotic items? Shit, he thinks, he can't even identify half of them, and he'd have no idea how to use them. No, he's done here.

He takes one last look around. This is all that's John Winchester's left behind. A few guns, some old photos, and, of all things, land mines.

So what if maybe he feels a little sad for John too.

* * *

March 1, New York, New York

"Lugosi and Steele Antiquities," Dean answers.

"Uh, is this Barton Steele?" It's a man, who sounds decidedly nervous. That's not entirely uncommon in this line of work, because in cases of exorcisms the customers are always a little jumpy.

"Yes, Steele speaking. How may I be of assistance?" Dean is grimacing as he speaks; speaking professionally still chafes.

"Um, this may sound strange, but me and my sister kind of need help…"

"That's what we do. What can we find for you?"

"Nothing, really. We're just in a, uh, spot of trouble… You see, there's this Hunter…"

Bela's eyes widen.

"… Okay, how did you get this number?" Dean asks.

"Carli Black," the man says. When Dean doesn't answer, the man continues, "Uh, the skin walker clan you helped like, two weeks ago?"

Dean pauses. This is unexpected. "They gave you this number?"

"Yeah, they said you were big help against the Hunter that was - - "

"Look, we're trying to keep out of this crap. We don't want to get involved in any Hunter v monster battles - - "

"We're not monsters! We've never hurt anyone!" the man - - boy? - - asserts almost desperately. "We're not all like the ones you see on the news - - we don't murder people or rob banks. I'm a student, and my sister's a nurse! We… our mom… but we would never!"

Dean looks across the phone at Bela. The kid sounds panicked, and he's betting he wouldn't call if there were anywhere else he could go. It seems callous to leave these kids to the wolves, but…

"We can pay you, I swear, we've got a little in savings - - "

"Fuck," Dean mutters. He raises his eyebrows at Bela, asking permission. After a small hesitation, she nods. They didn't go through Hell to be like the demons who tortured them, who let them be tortured and watched.

"Keep your money, kid." The kid lets out a desperate sounding choke, because he thinks they aren't going to help them, but Dean cuts him off. "We'll help. Now, tell me exactly what's going on."

Dean gets a horrible feeling that by helping these kids? That this is is just the beginning of something.

* * *

March 4, Michigan

Sam wakes up, blinking blearily. He's on his stomach, and he's pretty sure he's still a little drunk. Even this out of it, though, he knows someone's in the room. He reaches under his pillow, but finds nothing.

"Looking for this?"


	22. Chapter 22

_Author/Underhill's Note: Oh dear god it's chapter 22. This took forever, and part of that is it's a little longer, the other is that I keep falling asleep. But I promised myself I would post this before work, so here it is! It's... not edited. Oh god. DISCLAIMERS. I seriously loooove you reviewers! And OMG I HAVE TEN MINUTES TO GET READY OH MAN so, please review and whatnot, and I hope this doesn't suck too much NOW PANIC OMG WHERE ARE MY SHOES?!_

* * *

March 4, Axis Mundi, Heaven

Sam "wakes up" lying on wet asphalt. Bright light lies almost tangibly on top of him, and he rolls over to find the bright lights of the Impala's headlights resting on him. _What the hell?_

He pushes his feet under him and looks around. He's on a road, forest on either side, everything around him pitch black except for the moon shining almost psychedelic like in the sky. To the side of him is a house, looking strangely familiar, and he takes a step towards it until he hears a crackling on the radio.

"Sam?" It's faint, but that voice definitely belongs to Cas, and it's definitely coming from inside the car. He approaches, leans through the window. The radio has come to life.

"Cas?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Sam knows he's supposed to say something smart here, some witticism like Dean would, but frankly he's still reeling from the fact that he was SHOT, and shit, was he really shot? It comes to him almost too fast.

"I'm dead."

"Yes. Condolences."

"Where am I?" He opens the door and climbs in; it's cold out there.

"Heaven."

"…How did I get to Heaven?" Cas sighs but Sam thinks it's a totally legitimate question.

"Please, listen. This spell, this connection, it's difficult to maintain. Tell me what you see."

"Uh, the dash. I'm in the Impala. There's a road, and this house that I swear I've seen before."

"Alright. A road. For you it's a road. Follow it."

"What about the house?" Sam asks, looking longingly over at the two-story.

"Sam, ignore it. They're just memories, you need to follow the road - - "

The radio dies.

"Well," Sam says. He stares through the windshield at the road, all blackness, then he stares out the side window at the house, which is bright, inviting…

He opens the door and heads for the house. He just wants to check it out, he tells himself. He'll follow the road once he figures out where he knows this place from, because it is bugging the crap out of him.

He opens the door without knocking, then stops dead.

"So, Sam. I hear you're new to McKinley."

_Oh fuck_, Sam thinks. Because he knows this. This is Thanksgiving dinner at Stephanie Something's house, when he was what, eleven? Why is he here?

"Memories," he breathes. That's what Cas said. Memories. You always heard about how when you bit the dust your life flashes before your eyes, but he didn't Heaven would simply be reliving your greatest hits. The idea of an eternity of this is a relaxing, stressless thought, but so, so disappointing.

He wants to sit down - - God, he wants to sit down - - but it doesn't feel right, somehow. Cas says he needs to follow the road. And God, why is this his first memory in Heaven? Why not something more meaningful?

There's a loud rumbling outside, and Sam goes to the window. A picture breaks, but Stephanie's family doesn't notice, just keep eating like they're in some sort of loop. Then there's a bright light, and Sam drops.

"Fuck." Alright, enough screwing around. When it passes, he goes to the radio. He hits it a few times. "Cas?"

The TV flickers and Cas's face appears.

"I can hear you."

Sam approaches, and the picture rolls. It's more static than not.

"Cas, so, hey! I was y'know, going to follow the road, but, uh… Anyways, there's this light..."

"Don't go into the light."

Sam doesn't laugh, but it's a close call.

"It's Zachariah. He's searching for you."

"And if he finds me?"

Cas explains, and Sam doesn't understand why it's a bad thing. He gets the feeling Cas wants to punch him through the television.

" - - You need to find an angel. His name is Joshua. He's impartial in this war. He may be able to help you escape."

"Why can't you just zap me back?"

Cas appears to struggle with himself, anger and annoyance turning to resignation. "I can't. I don't have the power to pull you from Heaven." Sam gapes. Bobby's right; Cas is Falling fast.

"What's so special about this road?" he asks, changing the subject. He has a feeling time is of the essence here.

"It's called the Axis Mundi." Sounds vaguely familiar. "It's a path that runs through Heaven. Different persons see it as different things. For you, it's two-lane asphalt."

"Why?"

Cas looks pained. "Because this isn't just your Heaven. You share it with Dean, even if he isn't here with you. You're going to see some things, memories that don't belong to you." Does Cas look… envious? "Just ignore them. Follow the road to the Garden. You'll find Joshua there."

The TV image rolls again, and Cas's face is replaced by static. "The Garden. Hurry." The television goes black.

* * *

The first memory of Dean's is eye-opening. Seeing Dean with his mother, and seeing how Dean, even as a child, took care of his family, is just… Sam doesn't know.

He goes through several more of his own memories next, Flagstaff, meeting Jess, getting and subsequently hiding his acceptance letter to Stanford, and finally realizes: none of his 'greatest hits' include Dean. Not a one. Where Dean's memory has included family (Dean and Sam on the 4th of July, Dean proudly watching Sam's high school graduation), Sam's memories are of himself. When he lands in the memory of that night, the night he left, Sam leans over and is sick. What would Dean think of him if he were here now?

It's this pause that allows Zach to find him.

* * *

March 4, 11 AM, California

Dean feels as if he's spent his life in nothing but greasy diners and cheap motel rooms. So this, sitting across a nice table in a decent restaurant (but only one set of utensils, because Dean draws a _line_) from prospective "clients" is a nice change of pace. It's hard to remember sometimes that this is his life now, sitting next to Bela with their pinkies locked under the table.

"Reid, was it?" Bela asks the boy. He's leaning forward with his hands clasped, the picture of earnestness while his sister absentmindedly tears up sugar packets and looks out the window. They're nervous, both of them, but the kid seems to be handling it better. And yes, kid, because damn, Dean thinks, he can't be more than seventeen years old.

"Yes, and this is my sister Raina."

"Nice to officially meet you, Reid," she says, reaching across the table to shake his hand. Seeing that Raina is in no shape to interact, Bela passes over her. "Now, you told my associate here that you had a Hunter on your trail?"

"Yeah. Look, I know I'm… not normal. I get that. But I don't think I should have to die for it, right?"

"What are you, anyway?" Dean asks.

"Tact, Dean," Bela tsks, but doesn't retract the question.

"Uh, I guess you'd call us Shapeshifters?"

"…Allergic to silver, shed your skin all creepy-like?"

"Dean!" Bela admonishes.

Reid makes a face. "Oh man, you have no idea. It is the grossest feeling thing ever. And the clean-up, man!"

Bela looks between them. "Hopeless," she mutters. "The both of you."

"So how'd he locate you? If you're not shifting." Dean continues the conversation now.

"He's been tracking us for a while. Like, since our mom died. She, uh… wasn't one of the good guys."

"But we aren't defined by our parents," Dean tells him, because looking at the kid's face, Reid needs to hear it.

He looks relieved. "Yeah. It was like two years ago. Raina came and got me, and we moved. Like, REALLY far away. And it was okay for a while, but apparently the guy tracked us here."

"I don't know what to do," Raina says quietly, her first words since they've sat down.

"You didn't try changing your names? Fake I.D.s?"

Raina scoffs. "How would we know how to make those? We're not CRIMINALS." And it's true. They'd looked into their history, their financials, everything, and aside from their mom (string of robberies, two suspected homicides), they came up clean.

Dean is loving the fact that out of Bela, him, and the shape shifters? The shape shifters are the more law-abiding ones.

Bela opens up her pocket book. She pulls out what looks like five grand and one of their business cards. She takes out a pen and starts writing on the back of the card.

"I'm going to give you an e-mail address for a friend of mine, and she's going to set you up with new identities. New names, new SSNs, and I suggest you change your appearances and keep them that way, at least for a few years. She'll also get you a house, a place in a good school, and an interview for Raina here." When she's done, she slides the card across the table towards Reid. She slides the five grand to Raina, and watches her expectantly. It has the desired effect - - Raina 'wakes up.'

"Seriously?" she asks. "Why would you do this?"

Bela shrugs, a foreign gesture on her. "Because we can. And because you need it."

Raina doesn't question any farther than that. She takes Reid by the shoulder and hauls him up. Reid stutters an apology/thank you as his sister drags him out. At the door, Raina pauses. She meets Bela's eyes and nods. Then they're gone.

Bela breathes a sigh of relief. "I hope they let us help."

"Did you give him Liselle's e-mail address?" Bela nods. "Whatever happened to her, by the way? Wasn't she supposed to track down the Voice's vessel?"

"She says it's turning out a bit trickier than anticipated. It's possible the vessel dropped out in the middle of nowhere, and no one's noticed yet. Have you heard from it again?"

"Nah, he's mysteriously quiet for once." Dean doesn't mention that his nightmares have gotten worse in the interim, because Bela always knows when he's dreaming.

They fall into silence - - Dean trying not to think about what he sees when he's sleeping, and Bela trying to think of something to say to make it better. She settles on lifting his hand to the table and gripping it tight. She flips the menu in front of her open.

"Well. Let's see what kind of pie this place has, shall we?"

* * *

Ash can travel between people's heavens, can rescue Sam, but all Ash can tell him is that there's been a lot of loud chatter lately - - Heaven is in disorder.

"What KIND of disorder, Ash?" he'd asked, but Ash hadn't had an answer. Instead, he'd sent him through a door, the 'All Access Pass to the Magic Kingdom.' He's a little shocked and more than a little disoriented by where he ends up.

It's Bobby's house, the night before Carthage. Sam is shocked, because for the life of him he can't think of a single good thing about this night. It was a prelude to the worst day of his life, because it was the last day of Dean's.

He's watching himself sitting across from his brother, who's checking Jo out as she walks to the next room.

"Boy, talk about stupid ideas," Sam whisper-shadows memory-him.

Dean takes a swig of beer. "Good God. True, that." Sam watches as memory-Dean walks out and decides to follow him. He should leave the memory, keep following the road, but it's DEAN.

He watches Jo shoot Dean down and smiles. Good for her. Sometimes Dean needs to be knocked down a peg or two. Or needed to be. He grimaces.

Memory-Dean walks outside into Bobby's junkyard and leans against the trunk of the Impala. Real Sam leans next to him and tries to pretend that this is real, that he is part of this memory. It's for this reason that memory-Cas's sudden appearance makes him jump.

"Dean."

Dean's still looking at the stars, but he does acknowledge the angel with a soft, "Cas." Sam didn't know about this. He thought Cas was in the house the entire time. "What is it, Cas?" Dean snaps.

Memory-Cas has a confused look on his face. Like he's trying to decide something.

"I am wondering why you are out here away from the others?" the angel settles on.

Memory-Dean huffs. "Kind of depressing in there, don't you think? Last night on earth and all."

"But…"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"You just propositioned Ms. Harvelle with that same line," memory-Cas says, and at memory-Dean's dumbfounded expression Sam bursts out laughing. Neither notice. "Isn't the act of sexual intercourse supposed to be a joyous one?"

Sam is still laughing, doubled over now.

"Uh, yeah, sometimes. Sometimes… Sometimes it's just for fun, and sometimes, it's… Sometimes it's for saying goodbye."

…Now where is this going?

There's a snap of fingers.

"I think that's enough of that, don't you?" Zachariah says. Sam freezes. Well, fuck, he thinks. Trying to focus on a way out of a decidedly shitty situation, Sam forgets all about Dean's memory.

* * *

March 4, 3 PM, Montana

Adam's Uncle Mike, the one who taught him how to shoot, has an old cabin in Montana. He rarely uses it now, but when Adam was young he'd taken his family there for a week every summer, and sometimes Adam and his mother would tag along. Adam figures this is the perfect place to get his bearings, figure out just what the hell to do. It doesn't hurt that he knows where the spare key is hidden.

He knows he can't stay for long (Is two days pushing it? Exactly how long did L mean?), but at the moment he's just trying to get his head together. Since he landed in John's storage, he hasn't heard from L - - not once.

He drops his head in his hands. Not long ago he was dead, and now he's alive. He knows he should be grateful, he really does. But he can't stop thinking about his fifth birthday, chocolate cake, and his mother smiling.

* * *

Time: Irrelevant, Heaven, The Garden

…This place, Sam thinks, looks exactly like where he took that one field trip as a kid. "This is Heaven's Garden?" he mutters. Man, for such a buildup, it sure is a letdown.

"You see what you want to here." Sam jumps at the sudden appearance of a man. "For some it's God's throne room, for others it's Eden. For you, I believe it's the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. You came here on a field trip."

Sam nods. Cleveland. Okay, yeah, he does remember this. Several grades went, and Dean told Sam he only went to keep an eye on him. Sam, however, suspects it had more to do with the flowers. Anyway, Dean ended up lighting a small fire; they left town not long after.

"You're Joshua," he observes, because who else could this guy be?

He nods. "I'm Joshua, the Gardener."

"So, uh, a friend told me you could get me home."

"A friend, eh? It wouldn't happen to be Castiel, would it?" At Sam's lack of response, he nods. "I thought so. Good to see one so generous as him forming relationships; making friends as you would say. Now, don't look so wary, Sam. I'm not going to hurt you; I just trim the hedges. You should trust 'Cas'. 'Cas'. I like that by the way."

"Yeah, well, no offense, but I have bad experiences with angels."

"Ah, Zachariah. Of course. But I am not him. In fact, I used to walk among you, once," he says.

"When?" Sam asks, because he definitely doesn't recognize this guy.

Joshua smiles. "A long time ago, to be sure. I'm surprised though that your friend didn't ask me to speak on your behalf."

"Speak to who?"

Joshua looks a little surprised. "He didn't tell you? I speak to God. Well, mostly, he talks to me."

Sam's mind spins. Joshua is an angel that (talks to God), and Castiel didn't think that was worth MENTIONING?

"That's… that's great! Can you get him a message for - - "

"Actually," Joshua interrupts. "He has a message for you. Back off."

"What?"

"He knows already. Everything you want to tell him."

"But…"

"He knows what the angels are doing. He knows that the Apocalypse has begun. He just doesn't think it's his problem."

Sam is stunned. "Not his problem?"

"God saved you already," the angel explains. "He put you on that plane. He brought back Castiel. He granted you salvation in heaven. And after everything you've done too. It's more than he's intervened in a long time. He's finished."

"But he can stop it! He can stop all of it!"

"I suppose he could, but he won't."

"Why not?!"

Joshua shrugs. "Why does he allow evil in the first place? You could drive yourself nuts asking questions like that."

"He's just going to sit back and watch the world burn," Sam says. It's not even a question, because after everything, after having lost Dean, after maybe losing _Bobby_ now even if he's still technically there, there's no question. God's just another dead-beat dad.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam doesn't respond. He looks up at through the conservatory skylights and blinks because he is so not crying because if he were crying Dean would call him Samantha and never let him forget it.

"If it's any consolation - - " Sam snorts, because whatever it is won't be. " - - I'm rooting for you. I wish I could help you more, but… I just trim the hedges." Pause. "You may not want to give up hope yet, though, Sam."

"Why's that?" Sam chokes, still not crying goddamnit.

He can HEAR the coy smile on Joshua's face even if he's not looking. "The hedges, Sam. Just the hedges." And Sam is gone.

Sam sits bolt upright with a sharp intake of breath into his lungs. ALIVE.

He's gotta… he's gotta call someone. Bobby. Cas. Rufus…No, wait, not Rufus, Rufus'll shoot him if he calls for anything less than an immediate emergency (like zombies, or killer cupids).

He hits speed dial. Cas it is.

* * *

March 4, 8 PM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Cas is passed out, sitting up on the couch with his head leaned back. Bobby snorts.

"Damn idjit," he mutters, because that's what the boy is, he thinks. Pushed himself too hard talking to Sam up in Heaven with too little strength, and now he's out cold and looking like death. Logically, he knows it was the only option they had, but the illogical, still-pissed-off-at-Sam part of him is annoyed that the younger Hunter has made the angel that much weaker. Cas is like another son to him. He has no idea when that happened, but it has.

He hears Cas's phone ring and grabs it off the coffee table. It's Sam. He flips the phone open, growls, "He's fine," and then hangs up. If Sam has other questions, well, he can wait till tomorrow.

* * *

March 6, 9 PM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Sam and Cas meet at a diner in town. The angel lets Bobby know where's he's going, and Bobby knows who with. Sam doesn't ask why they don't meet at the older Hunter's house because he knows; he still makes the puppy dog eyes which used to work so well on Dean, like he can convince Cas to take him anyway. It doesn't work.

Sam is giving him the rundown of events when Cas interrupts him.

"…What memories of his did you see?" Cas's voice is careful, measured, like he's almost afraid of something.

"Huh?" He puts his coffee down. "Oh. Uh, him and my mom as a kid. My graduation, which is weird because I had no idea he was even there. Us lighting this field on fire on the Fourth of July. And then Bobby's place; the night before Carthage, weirdly."

Cas twitches. "What - - what happened?"

"He tried to hook up with Jo, but she shot him down. The two of you started talking outside, then Zachariah interrupted."

Cas's mouth opens and closes, his hands shake. "Did you hear all of it?"

Sam is puzzled. He wants to place a steadying hand on Cas's shoulder (the angel looks like he's about to pass out), but gets the feeling it's a bad idea. "Just you asking Dean awkward sex questions. Zach showed up before it got very far, thank God. I really did not want to listen to Dean give you his version of 'the talk'."

Cas lets out a broken breath. "Oh. Yes. That. He was very… informative."

"Yeah, with all the experience he has, I bet he was," Sam laughs. He loved his brother, but he was a bit of a man-whore.

Cas frowns, as if he hears exactly what Sam is thinking (which Sam finds unnerving). "You should not be so judgmental, Sam. People love in different ways."

Sam rolls his eyes. "That's not love, Cas, that's sleeping around."

"It's forming human connections," Cas corrects. "It's important. Just because he interacted differently than you, doesn't make his way wrong."

Sam decides to give up. It's not worth arguing with him, like it wasn't worth arguing the point with Dean. He might as well get back to the story.

When he starts back in, Cas is glaring at him.


End file.
